In Transit
by jelenamichel
Summary: An investigation takes the team to Pearl Harbor as Tony and Ziva try to navigate their 'relationship', Gibbs tries to look the other way, and McGee tries to get a clue. Case fic-ish.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yep, I'm doing it. I'm doing one of those contrived 'investigation that takes them out of DC' stories. In my defense, I've been inspired by the first two seasons, which I re-watched for the NCIS Guidebook (shameless plug alert!), and in which the team travels **_**a lot**_**. They even shared a house on base once, and I hold it up as evidence for this not being any more preposterous than what we'd get on the show. And anyway, I've contrived this not so much to get Tony and Ziva into close quarters for some lovin' (although that will probably happen, because I owe LittleSammy), but so that they can have a bunch of conversations. I like writing Tony/Ziva conversations.**

**Once again, this is set out of canon. **

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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"Love," Tony DiNozzo said to Tim McGee. "Love will keep us together."

The corner of McGee's mouth lifted. "Think of me babe, whenever," he threw back, adding a wink.

They both turned to Ziva David, who bit her lip as she searched for the right words. "It is something like—"

"Just the lyrics, Zee-vah," Tony cut in, and held up a finger. "First warning."

Ziva looked to McGee for help, but the baby-faced agent just shook his head. This was a competition, and he wouldn't be offering any assistance. There was $20 on the line.

Ziva sighed and hummed the tune to herself. It was so unfair, she thought. She hadn't grown up with all these ridiculous songs like the other two had, and they wouldn't accept any of the songs _she_ suggested. They'd made rules that at least two players had to know each song, _and_ each song had to be in English. How was she supposed to compete when—

"Come on, Ziva," McGee said.

"Some sweet-talking girl comes along?" Ziva tried. She knew she was right by the way both her colleagues' faces fell.

"Singing a song," Tony said absolutely tonelessly.

"Don't mess around, you just gotta be strong," McGee said, then threw to Ziva.

"And—"

"Stop," Gibbs said, delivering the next line of the song as he strode through the bullpen with a coffee in his hand. He allowed himself a fleeting moment of amusement as his three agents went silent, and looked around at each other with surprised suspicion. It wasn't usual for Gibbs to play ridiculous games with them…and he wasn't. It was just a convenient way to shut them all up. He glanced over at DiNozzo as he reached his desk, and easily pinpointed the moment that his senior agent opened his mouth.

"I'm not playing your stupid game, DiNozzo," Gibbs pre-empted. "I need you all to stop. We got a body."

Each of his agents stood up and opened their drawers to reach for their badges and guns. Gibbs nodded to himself with satisfaction at the well-oiled machine he'd turned them into over the years, but this time, he needed something different from them.

"Grab your gear," he started as normal. "And then go home and pack."

"Pack?" McGee echoed.

"Where are we going, boss?" Tony asked, a look of trepidation on his face. Trips he'd had to pack for in the past had been pretty hit and miss. For every night of naked Ziva in his bed in Paris, there was an iguana in his bed in Cuba.

"Pearl Harbor, Hawaii," Gibbs said. He tossed a thumb drive to McGee and gestured at the plasma screen. "Three kids found dead in their beds on base."

He noticed the wary looks that passed between his agents, but couldn't immediately work out why they were suddenly so somber. McGee got the files displayed on the plasma, and Gibbs used the clicker to pull up the ID cards of all three victims.

"Petty Officer Steve Woods, Ensign Noah Silverman and a supply clerk, Shaun Hill," Gibbs relayed. "Killed on separate occasions over the last month. Our office down there started investigating, but Vance has them on a high profile smuggling case and they don't have the manpower for that and a triple homicide."

Tony and Ziva joined Gibbs by the plasma for a better look at the shots, as Gibbs clicked through to crime scene photos of each man lying seemingly peacefully in bed.

"I thought you said they were _kids_," Ziva said.

Gibbs glanced at her, and then gestured at the screen, as if it were all the evidence he needed to back him up. "Well, yeah, Ziva. The eldest is 22."

Tony opened his mouth, Gibbs was sure to make a joke about Gibbs' advanced years, but Ziva discreetly elbowed him and the teasing twinkle in Tony's eye vanished.

"Cause of death?" he asked instead.

Gibbs glared him down in punishment for the unmade comment as he answered. "Asphyxia caused by drowning."

"Boss?" McGee questioned. His confused tone matched the looks on his colleagues' faces. "Well, they're in their beds. Their _dry_ beds."

"Yeah, I see that, McGee," Gibbs said, sighing as though he was employing a great deal of patience by entertaining this line of questioning. "Could be why the ME ruled their deaths homicides."

"You think someone held their heads in a bucket of water of something?"

"That's what we're gonna find out, McGee."

"In Hawaii," Tony double-checked, making sure he hadn't made that part up in his head. "Hula girls, tiki bars, surfing and _Magnum P.I._?"

"And dead bodies, DiNozzo," Gibbs reminded him, not so gently.

Tony held up a finger, as if he were making a mental note, and then quickly turned and headed back to his desk with a grin. He grabbed his backpack, gun and badge again as scenes of sun, sand and a bikini-clad new American citizen ran through his head. Sure, work was still the priority, but Hawaii was Hawaii. And if they wrapped it early, he might be able to take a day's leave and drive up to Magnum's house. It was one of those things he'd always meant to do but never had the time.

He spun away from his desk with a little too much enthusiasm, and bumped right into McGee who was blocking the exit between his desk and the filing cabinet. The younger agent's arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes held a warning glint that made Tony pull back slightly and look to Ziva for help. But his partner was standing next to McGee with the exact same warning expression…except on her, it was ten times scarier.

"What?"

Ziva leaned in to him. "We are warning you right now, DiNozzo," she began in a low voice that his twisted brain found undeniably hot. "If you make one more Magnum reference on this trip, McGee and I will set fire to your entire DVD collection and toast you over the flames. Understood?"

Tony chuckled as though it were a joke, even if a sizeable part of him believed her. "What are you talking about? You think I have to find a reference for every situation? I have some self control, you know."

"No, you don't," McGee said with a shake of his head. "Especially when Magnum is involved."

Tony gave him an annoyed look. "Don't jump on board just because she threatened you, McJudas. Stand up for yourself."

"I stand with her on this."

Ziva reached out and grabbed Tony's tie in her fist before yanking him closer. "_No Magnum_," she warned through gritted teeth.

"No Magnum," Tony promised, and pried open her fingers.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, DiNozzo," Gibbs threw over his shoulder as he left the bullpen. "Wheels up at 0700."

Tony smoothed his freshly creased tie against his shirt and frowned at Ziva's challenging gaze. "Bright and early, boss. Can't wait," he called back.

"Uh, guys?" McGee said, breaking up Tony and Ziva's impromptu staring competition. "We should go see Abby before we leave. You know she won't forgive us if we don't say goodbye."

Down in her lab, Abby sat slumped down on her office chair, arms and legs crossed and pouting at her three friends standing in front of her. The industrial metal music that usually assaulted them from her speakers had been replaced by a dirge, and she'd twisted her springy pigtails from the morning up into twin buns on top of her head. It was fair to say that the forensic scientist was not pleased with what her friends were telling her.

"So, you're leaving again," she stated, disappointment etched in her face.

"Not for long, Abs," Tony said. "Promise."

"That's what you always say," Abby said, narrowing her eyes. "And then you always come back one short."

"Abby," McGee started, but Abby cut her hand through the air.

"No! How many times do I have to tell you all? Bad things happen outside of DC."

"Nothing's going to happen," McGee insisted.

"You always say that, too."

Ziva stepped forward, and put on the voice she always used when she was trying to calm down an irrational Abby. "It is just an investigation, Abby. We do the same thing here every day."

Tony backed her up. "Right. And when was the last time any of us got hurt during an investigation?"

Abby stood up and put her hands on her hips as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Last week when you got winged by that guy you were chasing down at the marina."

Tony winced as his argument started to fall apart. "Right, winged. It was barely a scratch."

"He won't even scar," Ziva said, helping to downplay it.

Tony nodded. "Right. I mean, it still hurt," he said, pouting just enough to make Abby's eyes soften and her head cock to the side in sympathy. "But it barely counts as an injury."

"But it was!" Abby cried. "Someone always gets shot or kidnapped or…loses their bags when you guys travel."

"Tony and I were in Paris in January," Ziva reminded her. "And nothing happened."

Abby cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, _somethin'_ happened," she said knowingly, causing Ziva to look at the floor and Tony to put on his best poker face.

"We'll call you every day," McGee promised.

Abby's shoulders slumped. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop them from going, so she sucked it up and nodded glumly. "Okay. I guess I'll just have to bring out the brooms again." She frowned. "I'll have to get new faces for them though since _someone_ drew on them."

It was McGee's turn to bring out his innocent face under the weight of Tony and Ziva's glares.

Abby gave them each a tight hug, but lingered with her arms around McGee. "Promise you'll all stay safe, Timmy."

McGee squeezed her back, and missed the amused look that passed between Tony and Ziva. "I promise, Abby. You don't have to worry."

"No, I don't _have_ to," Abby agreed. "But I _will_ until you all set foot back in my lab, safe and sound."

As soon as her friends left her lab, Abby sat back down again, facing the door, and awaited the inevitable arrival of Gibbs. When he did appear, Abby didn't say a word. She just looked at him with big, worried eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Gibbs softened his gaze and gave her the kind of smile he'd give Kelly when she had a nightmare. He leaned over and kissed her temple sweetly. "Nothing's gonna happen, Abs," he said gently. "I promise."

Abby wanted believe him, but still had to check in with his gut. "You're not getting any hinky feelings, right?"

"Nope," Gibbs replied with a little shake of his head. "All clear."

She nodded, and a little smile stretched her lips. "Will you call me?"

"Every day."

"Will you take photos?"

He gave her a rare, full smile. "Probably not."

Abby shrugged in agreement. "Yeah, that's more of a Tim thing. And Tony, but he doesn't take very good shots. Except for the ones he takes of Zi—uh, ze Eiffel Tower!" she finished in a forced French accent, trying to cover for her friends, even if she wasn't clear on _what_, exactly, she was covering up. "Yeah, he took a bunch of those in Paris and they were pretty good."

Gibbs' face was unreadable, so Abby quickly changed the subject. "Do you think you could get me a little novelty hula girl for my dashboard?"

"I'll see what I can do," he said, and gave her a final wink before he turned and left her alone.

**

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**Chapter 2 is posted now. This is me shamelessly trying to hook you in a little more. **

**For the record, I don't think a damn thing happened on that night in Paris. But I'm using it because I need a break from writing 'getting together' stories, and **_**Jetlag**_** is a convenient place to point to where something may have started. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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Their breakfast trays on their flight out of Washington had barely been cleared before McGee felt the urge to reach across the aisle and shove his napkin down Tony's throat. The senior agent hadn't bothered looking at the itinerary McGee had printed out for him yesterday until right before they boarded their commercial flight, and ever since then he'd been moaning about the flight plan. The flight they were on now would get them to San Francisco in six hours. After a 90-minute layover, they'd then get on a five-hour flight to Honolulu. It wasn't anybody's ideal but, short of bending the laws of time and space, there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. No, not even complaining would help.

Sitting between Tony and the window, Ziva should have been bearing the brunt of her partner's bad mood. But the ex-Mossad officer and new US citizen was much better than McGee at looking like she wasn't paying attention. That meant Tony was aiming his moaning about his back, his knees, his inability to sit still for more than ten minutes at McGee.

McGee sighed and gazed ahead of them to where Gibbs was sitting. The boss had managed to snag a prime seat by himself in the front row of economy and looked like he was already asleep. McGee wondered how hard Gibbs would slap him if he moved up the front to join him, and whether it would be worth a few minutes of peace and quiet.

"I'm a tall guy," Tony was saying. "I mean, the seats are small enough for itty bitty Ziva, right? She's, like, officially a midget when she's not in heels and her knees are still wedged into that emo kid's seat. How's a guy my height supposed to squeeze in here for six hours? And I got a bad knee from playing college ball. It's no good in a pressurized environment, and—"

"I'm gonna talk to Gibbs," McGee said, and quickly rose from his seat to try his luck with the ex-Marine sniper. Anything was better than Tony when he was talking about his college athlete days.

Tony watched him go, and counted to ten before he addressed Ziva. "That was easy."

Ziva turned to look at him with a dark look on her face. "Officially a midget?" she repeated.

Tony gave her a sunny smile. "You think I went too far?"

"Just to be clear, I am five-seven," she huffed. "And I can almost reach _your_ height in heels."

Tony snorted. "No, you can't. I have never seen you wear heels that high."

Ziva softened her gaze to slide on her teasing face. "Because I am not sure I like you enough to show you."

Tony shot her a Joker smirk. "You seemed to like me just fine last night."

"Because you were on your knees, Tony," she shot back smoothly.

Tony leaned back in his seat and let the memory of the previous night's activities fill his head. Yes he certainly had been on his knees. More than once. "It's my second favorite place to be."

Ziva crossed her legs as her thoughts drifted to where Tony's were. "Second, really?"

Tony rethought the statement. "Okay, third. But there's barely anything in it."

She smiled and picked up the in-flight magazine. "After on your back and on my stomach?"

"You know me well, sweetcheeks." He'd been in both of those places last night as well. All things considered, it was a pretty great night. Unexpected too, which made it even better. It wasn't a regular thing they were doing. They weren't in a relationship, in the typical sense of the word, although he was certainly faithful to her and had hopes for their future. They had sex that involved real feelings, but more often than not, weeks would pass between visits to each other's bedrooms.

It had started in Paris. Sort of. They'd slept together that night, but not for the first time, or even the second. But Paris had been the beginning of…this. The thing they had now that was slowly but surely moving them forward and changing the definition of _them_. Paris had been when he realized that they really were working through the horror of last summer, and that they may end up stronger at the end of it. Paris was where he told her he loved her, just because he needed her to know. He hadn't expected her to reply in kind, and she hadn't. Not verbally. But her eyes…her eyes hadn't shut up.

He looked over at her now, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she read her magazine, and opened his mouth to run a thought by her.

"No," she cut in, hearing his intake of breath.

He didn't know how she did that. "No what?"

"No, I am not going to sleep with you on this trip while Gibbs is around," she filled in, answering his intended question.

Yeah, he supposed that would only be smart. "Fine," he sighed. He glanced at her magazine. "Are you going to read the whole way?"

"Why?"

"I'm _bored_, Zee-vah."

Ziva rolled her eyes to herself and flipped to the back of the in-flight magazine to read the movie schedule. "I am sure you can find a way to amuse yourself until _Iron Man 2_ comes on."

Tony's eyes fell to the V of her t-shirt. "Maybe."

She felt his eyes on her and closed the magazine. "I said no to that."

"I can't even _look_?"

She handed him the magazine. "There are women in bikinis on page 24."

Tony jammed the magazine into the seat pouch. "I think Abby knows."

Ziva barely rolled her eyes. "Abby has been thinking that she knows since two months after I started working here."

"Weird, because I still hated your guts then," Tony joked.

"Which you chose to demonstrate by sticking your tongue in my mouth and rubbing yourself against my thigh?" Ziva asked conversationally, referring to their time spent undercover as a sexed-up married couple.

"It was my knee," he sighed.

Ziva looked up at him with blatant incredulity that he was _still_ fighting this. "Tony. Unless you had three knees…"

"So you're not worried about Abby?" he cut in, changing the subject.

"I'm not worried about anyone," she replied.

"Anyone?" Tony repeated, and cocked his head towards the front of the plane where their scary boss slept.

Ziva calmly folded her hands in her lap. "I am sure he already knows."

Tony's heart rate sped up a little, and his gut churned at her confirmation of what he'd already suspected. "It's those looks he keeps giving me," he muttered. "The ones that warn me he's got a shotgun in his basement and he's not afraid to use it."

Ziva frowned. "I don't think it's a shotgun. I think it's a rifle."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I know. It's an expression…I just mean that he's giving me warning looks lately. Like he's reading my dirty mind and doesn't entirely trust me."

"He doesn't trust _me_," Ziva told him, like it was obvious. At Tony's dubious face, she shifted in her seat so that she was turned more towards him. "He may have said something to me a few weeks ago."

Tony blinked in surprise. "Something like what?"

She swallowed nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Something like _if you screw him over, lie to him, cheat on him or take him for granted, I will bury you in my back yard._"

Tony's mouth dropped open. "What?"

Ziva squirmed a little, showing her discomfort, but continued, "But he suggested that he could deal with it as long as we did our jobs the same as always. And didn't play grab ass on the clock."

A part of him was sure that she had to be joking right now. There was no way that a) Gibbs would just be okay with it, or b) Ziva and Gibbs' little chat could have happened without him knowing it. "Is this you trying to make a joke?" Tony asked. "Because I'm not picking up the subtleties in your humor."

"I am not joking," Ziva replied.

He believed her. She was wearing her most serious of her serious faces. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ziva shrugged. "I didn't want you to be weird."

One eyebrow rose. "_Weird_?"

Ziva gestured at him. "Twitchy. While you tried to work out what we should be doing now that we've been granted an exception."

He frowned and started at the seat in front of him as he tried to work that out. "What should we be doing?"

"I don't know," Ziva said, shrugging and spreading her hands. "But you shouldn't feel like you need to do anything different just because _Gibbs_ said he wouldn't kill us. I don't want…this," she gestured between them, "defined by what Gibbs says."

Tony rubbed his forehead as his brain struggled to comprehend how much his life had possibly changed in the last few minutes. Deep down, Tony had never _really_ thought that Gibbs would shoot them if he found out about this thing they were doing. He was sure it would be obvious even to acquaintances, let alone family like Gibbs, that they weren't just using each other for some short-term fun. Tony was fairly confident that the boss man would be more or less okay with it if it didn't interfere with the job. But to have Ziva confirm that she'd already handled the awkward conversation, and secured the blessing—in the loosest possible terms—from Gibbs they needed, gave him a head spin.

"So, Gibbs is okay with it." It was a statement more than a question.

Ziva twisted her lips. "I don't know if he's _okay_ with it, as much as he is resigned to the fact that it's going to happen anyway. Although he did say he was impressed that you held out so long."

He looked at her, outraged. "Me? I think it might've been _your_ hands taking my clothes off that first night."

"It was," she said with a smirk. "But I didn't see the point of telling him that."

"Right. And when did you two have this heart-to-heart?"

"Last month," she admitted. "He caught me creeping into work wearing the same clothes I had the day before. I had intended to change before anyone else got in, but he was already there. He asked what was going on, and I didn't see the point in lying about it when I was certain he would not split the team up."

Tony nodded, pleased that she had the same thought as him. "You probably could have told me all that before now," he said carefully. He didn't want to get into a fight about it, but…seriously. It wasn't just some minor detail that she'd forgotten to share. It was a big deal that would have an effect on the way they carried on this affair. If that's what it was anymore. If Gibbs was giving a green light, and they were talking about it in plain and direct language like it was a good thing, maybe they were moving towards a more defined…relationship?

Ziva put her hand over his. "I know," she said apologetically. "Maybe I was just looking for the right time."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "And you thought that being trapped on an airplane might be it?"

She shot him a small smile, but he could see her nerves underneath it. "My timing is not ideal. I just didn't want to force the conversation about what we're doing and whether we should move faster and…" She sighed heavily. "I hate that conversation. I like…organic."

"Organic's okay," he said, drawing a grateful smile out of her. "I just don't want to feel like it's this big secret I have to hide when it's not."

"It's not to Gibbs," Ziva said.

"Well, that's a start," he said.

Ziva squeezed his hand and drew hers back to her lap. As her attention turned to the clouds outside her window, Tony reached for the magazine he'd stuffed away earlier. He hoped it would provide adequate defense against the thoughts that were now swirling in his head and sitting on the tip of his tongue. Organic _was_ okay. Really. Tony had always been a big believer in just sitting back and seeing where these relationship things went. Except now that she'd brought it up…what _were_ they doing? And _should_ they be moving faster? Okay, not faster, because that would involve moving in together and discussing décor and…no, he wasn't ready for that. But how would she feel about making this irregular thing a bit more regular? A bit more defined, a bit more…obvious? If he told McGee, for example, would she be okay with it, or crush his windpipe under her boot?

And what of Gibbs? Should he strike up an "I know you know" type of conversation and thank him for being fair and level-headed about it? Somehow he didn't think Gibbs would appreciate sitting down for a heart-to-heart with his senior agent. In fact, forcing Gibbs into a conversation like that would get Tony fired faster than sleeping with his partner would. Best not to bring it up, then.

He felt eyes on him as he flipped the page in his magazine, and looked up to meet Ziva's gaze. Her expression was serious again, and he raised an eyebrow in question. She couldn't have another bombshell to drop on him, could she? But her serious face gave way to a fond smile, and she leant over to give him a warm, soft and very unexpected kiss.

In the end, Ziva didn't tell him what was on her mind at that moment. But she didn't have to. Tony read her eyes loud and clear—they never had been able to shut up.

**

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That last line sounds very end-of-story, but it's not. There are plenty of chapters to come. I've just got to fit writing them in around writing the NCIS Guidebook (more shameless plugging!). Your patience and understanding is appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter delves into the case side of things, but I'm not actually very good at writing case stuff, so don't expect it to be comprehensive or well thought out. Just focus on the relationships, 'kay?**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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Special Agent Drew Gale was 6'4 of lean muscle, healthy tan and Texan twang. When he met Team Gibbs at Honolulu Airport in knee-length khaki shorts, flip-flops and a dark blue t-shirt, the agents had initially walked right past him, assuming that he was another tourist arriving to take advantage of the sunshine and waves. He'd spotted them immediately, of course. Gibbs was the only person in the entire airport wearing a sports coat, and they all moved around at double the speed most other people on the island did. They'd only stopped when he'd blocked their path and held up his ID, and even then it had taken some cajoling to get them into the open-top 4x4 Gale insisted on driving around the island. He was almost certain that Gibbs in particular didn't believe that Gale was who he said he was until they'd arrived on base and the marines at the check point had waved him on without bothering to glance at his ID.

Gale drove them to the base house Team Gibbs would be sharing during their stay in Pearl Harbor, a four bed, two bath bungalow a stone's throw from the water. The lawn had been clipped with military precision, but the red hibiscus shrubs along the fence line had been left to grow wild. There were two cars already in the drive, a blue sedan and a 4x4 like Gale's.

"Welcoming party?" Gibbs asked.

Gale shot him an easy smile and swung out of the 4x4. "They're your agency issue while you're in town, Agent Gibbs," Gale told him. "Director Vance said y'all would most likely be splitting up during your investigation, and approved the use of two vehicles. We've also scrounged up a couple laptops. You're welcome to come into the office if you prefer, but we don't have much room there. Thought this might be more comfortable."

Gibbs gave him a steely glare as he shouldered his rucksack and followed Gale up the path to the front door. "We're probably going to need access to your files on the murders, Agent Gale. This might be comfortable, but my team is more interested in practical."

Gale swung open the door and let Gibbs lead the way inside. "I had all the files brought over this morning, Agent Gibbs. They're on the dining table there. And your laptops will be able to access any electronic file you need from our system."

Gibbs grunted in place of offering thanks, and Ziva caught the eyebrow Gale raised at Gibbs' back.

"He does that," she offered quietly.

Gale shrugged and let it roll off his back, before shooting her an overly friendly smile under sparkling blue eyes. "First time to the island, Agent David?"

"No," she replied, tilting her head almost all the way back in order to meet his eyes. "But the last time I came, I was quite young."

"You should stick around for some vacation time afterwards," he suggested.

"She hasn't earned a vacation yet," Gibbs cut in. "McGee, get these lap things booted up and set up a line to Abby. You two, pull out the ME's and crime scene reports from this pile." He tapped the stack of paper files sitting on the dining table.

Gale made to step over to the pile, but Tony slipped past him and smacked his arm in a gesture that was a little too hard to be passed off as friendly.

"He means _we_ two," Tony said, gesturing between himself and Ziva. "Not _you_ two."

"Oh." Gale leaned against the wall and watched as the team set up. "So, uh, I hear you used to work with Stan Burley, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs and DiNozzo both looked up at him. The former seemed pleased, the latter not so much.

"He's a buddy of mine," Gale explained. "I mentioned your team was coming down, and he said to give you his regards."

"He's a good kid," Gibbs said with a nod. "He still agent afloat?"

Gale shook his head. "Nope. Went to Rota a couple years back. But he's due home soon and he'll be working out of the navy yard in Washington."

"Team leader?" Gibbs asked as Tony rolled his eyes, but Gale shook his head.

"Nope. He seems to think Vance has someone else in mind for when Agent Michaels retires," Gale replied, unaware of the fire of intrigue he'd lit in the four other agents in the room.

"Well, it'll be good to have him back," Gibbs said. "We need more good agents like him."

"Got the files, boss," Tony cut in, ending the Burley love-in.

Gale pushed himself off the wall and joined the group at the table. "Want the CliffsNotes?"

Gibbs nodded, but it was Ziva who spoke.

"I know, Tony," she said, holding up her hand. "I get it."

Tony closed his mouth, but grinned. The exchange went over Gale's head, but Gibbs gestured for him to go on.

"Petty Officer Steve Woods was the first one killed. He was found by a friend three weeks ago, the 19th." Gale tapped Woods' crime scene shots. "He was found just like that, propped up against the headboard of his bed. We didn't find any external injuries, couldn't find any evidence of a break in or robbery. Our ME found about a few ounces of water in his lungs, and he had a blood alcohol level of .32."

Tony winced. "I'm surprised he got to bed at all. That's passing out in a gutter territory."

"You would know," Ziva said sweetly. Tony shot her an equally sweet look in reply.

"He'd been out drinking with friends the night before," Gale said. "A bar downtown that's popular with locals rather than tourists. They said he got talking to a woman, and they left without him at about 2230. That was they last they heard from him."

"Get a description of the woman?" Gibbs asked.

Gales smirked and rubbed his chin. "Ah, not really. They were all pretty drunk, and the most we got from them was that she was a blonde in a short dress with big…" He stopped himself and glanced at Ziva before revising his statement. "Excuse me, Agent David. She was well endowed."

"You get surveillance footage?" McGee asked. "I can send it to Abby and she can try run it through facial recognition."

"We looked at it," Gale said. "We watched Petty Officer Woods sit with her for four hours, but her back's to the camera the whole time."

"Send it to Abby anyway," Gibbs said.

Gale nodded. "It should be in the box over there," he said, gesturing at a file box against the wall. "The circumstances of Ensign Silverman's and Shaun Hill's deaths appear to be identical. Found in the same position, both had about a few ounces of water in their lungs. No forced entry, nothing missing. Silverman's blood alcohol was .25, and Hill's was .33. They'd both been at bars off base with friends the night they died, and left their friends to hook up with a woman."

"Same blonde?" Ziva asked.

Gales shook his head. "Nope. One was a brunette, one a red head."

"Did you get a better description from their friends?"

"Hill's friends weren't even able to tell us her hair color," Gale said. "We got that from the security footage. It's in the box as well."

"When did Silverman and Hill die?" Tony asked.

"Silverman was weekend before last, on the 26th, and Hill was found on Sunday morning."

McGee did the math. "So, each victim was found on a Sunday morning."

"Each had a rostered day off," Gale said with a nod.

"Any connection between them?" Ziva asked.

"Not that we could find," Gale said. "But we've been busy on this smuggling case. Just about everything I found out, I found out on my downtime. I appreciate your help on this."

Gibbs advanced on him with a vaguely polite smile, and Gale started backing up down the hall towards the door. "We'll let you know what we find."

Gale knew he was being dismissed. "Okay. Well, give me a call if you need anything."

"You bet."

"Nice to meet you all," he called.

Gibbs held the door as Gale stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine. "Thanks for your help." He closed the door.

"I have seen this before," Ziva was saying when he returned to the dining table. "Pouring water into a person's mouth while they are incapacitated and unable to struggle can result in the person inhaling water and drowning."

Tony shot her a look, but wisely chose not to ask _how_ exactly she knew that method. He added it to the list of previously un-thought of ways she could kill him before he could work out what was going on.

"I want to go over those crime scenes again," Gibbs said. "Everyone be ready to go in 20."

His three agents looked around at each other tiredly, but knew better than to argue. It might be getting on for 2200 in DC time, but it was still only 1600 in Hawaii, and they probably had another four hours of daylight left.

"So," McGee said at length, figuring it was okay to gossip for at least the next 20 minutes. "Who do you think Vance has in mind to replace Michaels?"

Tony twisted his lips. "Bloom, maybe? That kidnapping he worked was pretty high profile, and he nailed that guy to the wall."

Ziva watched Gibbs' face closely. She had another idea in mind, and she suspected Gibbs did as well. Gibbs gave her an almost blank look in response, but the barest glint in his eye was enough to confirm her suspicions.

"I think there's someone more obvious than that," Gibbs said, then picked up his rucksack and headed for the bedrooms.

"I call the master bed!" Tony called out after him, even though he knew that was exactly where the boss was headed. The slamming door brought a smirk to his face before he looked back at the others.

"Who's obvious?" McGee was wondering aloud.

Ziva stared at him for a moment, wondering if he really was that clueless or was playing it up for his own amusement. When he was able to hold his look of confusion for longer than three seconds, Ziva decided on the former.

She stepped in between the two of them. "I will give you a hint, yes?" she offered. "It is someone in this room. But it is not me, and it is not McGee." She lay her hand on Tony's chest and gave him a quick but heavy look, and then turned to pick up her own bag.

"Oh," McGee said, in the tone of voice that usually complemented a forehead smack. "Of course. That makes a lot more sense."

"Hunh," Tony grunted. "I maybe should have seen that coming."

"Perhaps," Ziva said, and quickly squeezed his hand before heading for her room. "Given that you are a supremely talented investigator, yes?"

Tony looked at McGee, who was giving him a funny look off the hand squeeze. "She's teasing me," Tony said obviously.

McGee picked up his bag. "Yeah, I got that one."

**

* * *

Seeds? Planting. Conversations start in earnest next chapter. Oh, and if you don't know who Stan Burley is, you can either wait for the explanation in the next chapter, or you can check out the NCIS Guidebook! (I promise I'll stop that. But thanks to everyone who has messaged me with support for the project.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Because yesterday's chapter was so short, I'm posting this now to make up for it. Thanks to all who have reviewed, and a shout out to all my regular peeps. It's so nice to see you all!**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Gibbs was annoyed.

At the end of a long day spent at a crime scene, his usual winding down routine involved retreating to his basement with some bourbon and his boat. There wasn't a boat out the back of the base house that he could turn to now for meditation or distraction, so as soon as they'd gotten back from Petty Officer Woods' apartment, Gibbs had put on his running gear and hit the pavement. He'd been jogging for the last hour as problems, theories, and exposition floated into and out of his head, sometimes with a resolution and sometimes without.

The team had spent the afternoon on the case, meticulously going over each of the crime scenes. They'd bagged every glass and empty bottle, dusted every bed frame, window and door, collected the sheets and every item of trash. Two boxes brimming with evidence would be put on a plane at 0500 tomorrow morning and make its way to Abby for processing in DC.

Despite not having made headway today, it wasn't the case that was bothering him. Gibbs knew that things were always foggy and nonsensical at the beginning of an investigation, but he was sure that somewhere in the pile of glass, plastic and fabric there would be something to help them track down the killer. By this time tomorrow, things were bound to be much clearer.

No, the thing that was annoying Gibbs the most was what was going on with his team.

Vance wanted to steal his senior agent. His senior agent was sleeping with his junior agent. His junior agent was struggling to pretend like she wasn't as madly in love with him as he was with her. And his middle agent was laboring under the misconception that Gibbs was so distracted by the other two that he didn't see what he was trying to get up to with Abby.

Did everyone think he was stupid?

It wasn't that he didn't think Tony was ready to be team leader—he'd clearly been ready for years. And it wasn't that he didn't believe that Tony and Ziva were serious about each other—that had been obvious for almost as long as Tony's team leader potential had been. Nor was he explicitly against McGee being crazy about Abby—though he wasn't sure if that was a long-term thing. What irritated him was that everyone seemed to have decided that the only way to go about things was to lie and sneak around. Gibbs might expect suspects to lie to him, but he couldn't swallow it coming from his own team.

Although he didn't want them to be completely upfront about things, either. He could do without having Tony and Ziva screwing in the bedroom next to his, and he definitely didn't need to witness McGee stumbling and bumbling over the object of his affection. And God help any of them if he ever caught them playing grab ass when they were supposed to be working. But they didn't have to insult him by acting like none of it was happening.

Gibbs could think of easy fixes for each of these problems. Vance wanted his senior agent? Okay. Ignoring the sharp and heavy sense of panic that thought brought to Gibbs' chest, that definitely had an easy fix. If DiNozzo wanted it, he should definitely have it. The kid had long been too good to stay under Gibbs' command. His talent was being wasted playing the sidekick, and if he wasn't already bored where he was, he soon would be.

Problem two: Tony and Ziva. Another easy fix. Tony took the team leader position, Gibbs wouldn't have to continue to accommodate them, and on top of that, their chances of making it together in the long term rose significantly. If they stayed on the same team together, they'd either kill each other or break up (and then possibly still kill each other) by Christmas. Gibbs would put money on it.

Problem three: McGee and Abby. That one was harder, because Gibbs wasn't convinced that Abby returned McGee's affections. Yes, she adored him. But not as much or in the same way as McGee adored her. Part of Gibbs wanted to sit the kid down and give it to him straight. And if it were DiNozzo in McGee's shoes, he probably would have. But McGee wasn't as thick-skinned as Tony, and in the end Gibbs could do more harm than good. The solution to this was to simply let nature take its course. Sooner or later, Abby would spell it out for him, and Gibbs didn't doubt that she'd handle it perfectly.

The only problem with these fixes was that they weren't immediate. They wouldn't be fixed as soon as Gibbs walked through the door on base, and would perhaps drag on for a few months at least. So Gibbs would just have to be…well, _calm_ wasn't going to happen, and nor was patient. But he could give tolerance a go. And if that didn't work, his slapping arm was going to get one hell of a work out.

* * *

An hour later, the team was sitting at one end of the dining table and demolishing a lasagna that Tony had made. Gibbs was outlining the plan for the next day in between huge bites of a dish that was much, much better than he expected it to be, and the others were nodding along without complaint as they mostly focused on chewing and swallowing. Thanks to the time difference, their stomachs had been rumbling for dinner for hours.

"We'll talk to the friends again tomorrow," Gibbs said after swallowing a chunk of pasta and meat that almost choked him. "Look at the tapes and get IDs on the women. Try to find a connection between the victims."

Tony and McGee made noises that he interpreted as "Right, boss", as Ziva broke to take a few large gulps of water.

"Bar-jumping," she said, then covered her mouth as she held back a burp.

Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hopping."

McGee took advantage of the silent argument Ziva and Tony were having with their eyes and turned to Gibbs. "Weird for women to kill strangers, boss."

"How d'you know they were strangers?"

McGee swallowed some lasagna. "Uh, because the victims' friends didn't recognize the women?"

Gibbs pointed between Tony and Ziva with his fork. "Would these two chuckleheads be able to positively ID all the women you know?"

"I could ID Ziva _and_ Abby, boss," Tony broke in. "Even if my blood alcohol was .33."

McGee ignored him. "Probably not."

"McSpinster's got a point though," Tony said. "Except not the one you were actually trying to make. Women rarely kill, and it's almost unheard of for them to kill someone they don't know. And it's even more unheard of for them to do it in groups."

Ziva picked up his train of thought. "I wonder if any of the victims have a history of violence."

"Women usually kill to protect themselves or their kids," McGee picked up.

Tony nodded, but then shook his head. "I don't know, it still doesn't sound that plausible to me. I worked a crap load of domestics in Baltimore and Philly. Abused women don't leave their attacker and then go back again to _seduce_ them and kill them."

Ziva thought about that. "Well, we've got three women. They didn't necessarily kill their own abusers. If they were friends, they may have killed to—"

"Any of this wild speculation based on fact?" Gibbs cut in. Theorizing was one thing, but they were beginning to get away from themselves. When none of them spoke up, he said, "We'll look into their backgrounds tomorrow."

They ate for a few moments in silence, each thinking over the case and their own theories, until Tony put his fork down on his empty plate, sat back and rubbed his belly.

"Delicious, if I do say so myself." He looked over at Ziva. "What are you making for dessert?"

Ziva wrinkled her nose. "You can't possibly want more after all that."

Tony shrugged. "I'm a growing boy."

She eyed his gut. "Yes, you are."

He eyed the lasagna that remained on her plate that she hadn't made to touch in the last few minutes. "You gonna eat that?"

She sighed to herself and pushed her plate over to him. Tony took it with a grin and tucked in.

"So, who was that agent that Gale was talking about today?" McGee asked. "Stan Burley?"

Tony's fork paused halfway to his mouth, drawing McGee and Ziva's attention before he shoved the lasagna in his mouth. McGee and Ziva shared a frown.

"Oh, don't tell me you hit on his wife," Ziva said, and earned a _screw you_ smile from Tony.

Gibbs said, "He worked with me. Before DiNozzo."

"Ooh," McGee said with a grin. "So, you're his _replacement_."

Tony swallowed. "I simply took a vacant position."

Gibbs smirked, and riled Tony up a bit more. "Man, he was a great agent. Wonder if he'd be interested in coming back to work for me."

"That hurts, boss."

"Did he quote movies all the time?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope. But he read a lot."

"Did he give his coworkers disparaging nicknames?"

Another headshake. "No, Tim. He was real respectful. Abby and Ducky both adored him."

"You all suck," Tony stated.

Ziva gave him an exaggerated pout, but squeezed his thigh to assure him it was all a joke. He gave her a quick wink as he finished the last bite of lasagna, and then Gibbs stood and started collecting their plates. When McGee rose to help him, he caught sight of Ziva's hand still resting on Tony's leg, and he frowned to himself. She'd squeezed his hand in the living room earlier, and he was sure he'd seen Tony kiss the back of her hand on the plane this morning. And now she was feeling him up under the table? If they'd decided to say to hell with the rules, McGee didn't think they could have picked a worse time than the week they would have to share a house with Gibbs. But before he could give them a subtle warning, Ziva removed her hand and started gathering their empty glasses.

"Thank you for cooking, Tony," Ziva said over her shoulder as she followed McGee into the kitchen.

"S'ok," he replied, following the rest of them. "Make sure you tell Nonna how good it was."

Ziva looked up at him from her position bent over the open dishwasher. "Is Nonna going to kick my ass for making you cook?"

Tony grinned and leaned against the counter. "No. She'll be proud of me."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Figures," she grumbled.

"You know Tony's nonna?" McGee asked, wondering how he'd missed the introduction.

"She friended me on FaceBook," Ziva replied. "And I didn't know how to say no."

"Why would you want to say no to Nonna?" Tony asked, clearly not seeing the problem.

"I wouldn't, Tony. I love her. I just wish there was a special FaceBook that you could use with parents where they don't see what you share with your friends."

Tony made a face. "Oh, don't worry about it. She doesn't care about any of the stuff I put up."

She put her hand on her hip and argued with him over the top of Gibbs' head. "That's because you're the first-born male grandchild into an Italian family. She thinks you can walk on water."

His smile got wider and more self-satisfied. "Yes. That's true."

She leaned over the counter towards him. "But you remember you can't, yes? We tried it, and you sank."

Tony gave her a private smile as he remembered that particular drunken escapade. "I know. And I also can't fly."

Ziva nodded. "Right. But _I_ can."

He touched her wrist. "No, you can't."

"I'm pretty sure I can," she said with a nod.

Tony's hand covered hers. "Okay, but we talked about this, didn't we? And we agreed that you wouldn't try it unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Whatever," Ziva sniffed, and turned back to the dishwasher.

From the corner of the room, McGee caught Gibbs rolling his eyes at the wall. McGee couldn't blame him. Wait until he filled Abby in on this.

"Don't worry about Nonna," Tony was saying. "She likes you."

"We have never actually met, Tony."

Tony nodded, like she'd just made his point. "Right. And still she always asks about you. She FaceBook friended you. She gave you her recipe for tiramisu. You're in with Nonna, Ziva."

She looked at him over her shoulder and unsurprisingly found his staring at her ass. "So what does that get me?"

Tony lifted his eyes. "Rum balls at Christmas."

"Oh. Well that doesn't sound too bad."

* * *

By the time he got to bed, Gibbs was rethinking his decision to try to accommodate Tony and Ziva's relationship. It wasn't that they'd been overt at dinner, but they had been damn annoying. It was hard to tell, though, whether they were more irritating now that he knew for sure what was going on behind closed doors, or whether they'd always been this irritating. One thing he _was_ sure of, was that the conversation that was currently going on down the hall and drifting into Gibbs' bedroom wasn't helping their cause.

"You didn't punch me for hitting that guy who was leering at you today," Tony was saying, and Gibbs could only assume he was talking about Agent Gale.

"He was not leering," Ziva replied confidently.

Tony revised his statement. "He was hitting on you."

"He _was_ doing that," Ziva allowed.

"You didn't tell me off," Tony said, but there was a distinct lack of both jealousy and apology in his tone.

Ziva seemed just as mellow about it. "Did you expect me to?"

"Kind of."

There was a brief pause. "I suppose I was in a good mood."

"What brought on the good mood?" There was a smile in his voice now.

There was a much longer pause. "You brought me a pastry with apricot filling this morning."

"You know, it was the last one. I had to pull my gun on a sixty-year-old woman to get it."

There was a very unladylike snort from Ziva. "Your bravery is noted."

"Well, I know how you feel about stone fruit wrapped in pastry. The old lady might have thought it was overkill."

"I understand. You don't want to know who I killed to get you that coffee yesterday."

Tony chuckled, and after a few more moments of silence, Gibbs heard a muffled "goodnight" before Tony crossed into his own bedroom. Gibbs sighed in relief that he wouldn't have to get up and turn the hose on them, and tried to remember his resolution from earlier in the evening to try to be more tolerant. Okay, so he'd give it another day and try to give them more leeway before he started slapping heads. Any longer and his eyes would fall out of his head from all the rolling they were doing.

**

* * *

I'm currently stalled on chapter 7. Damn you, chapter 7! Why do you insist on being so difficult? **_**Why?**_** You're making my head hurt. And I resolve not to publish chapter 5 until you've straightened yourself out and brought me a mojito in apology.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for all the mojitos, my dears. Creativity flows freely when you're hammered, and the rum certainly helped the progress of the demon chapter seven. (Note: if you are under 18 or 21 or whatever the legal age is where you are, disregard what I just said. Jelenamichel does not condone the consumption of alcohol, particularly in excess. Just say no, kids. And stay in school. And get your hair off your face. And pull your pants up a few inches, for the love of God. Aren't you cold in that? Geez.)**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Tim McGee was beginning to suspect that something was up. Something to do with Tony, Ziva, and their adventures in Touchy-Feely Land. He'd had a moment's pause after the thigh thing and the nonna conversation last night, but dismissed it shortly after as just their usual attempts to push boundaries and see who flinched first. But then the morning rolled around, and he caught the tail end of a scene in the kitchen that he was positive wasn't really as innocent as they'd played it when they saw him.

He'd been walking up the hall to the kitchen when he'd heard their voices. Initially he couldn't work out what was being said, but he recognized the rhythm as their regular, nothing-to-worry-about style of sparring. McGee didn't think anything of interrupting, and continued forward. But as he got to the corner, he heard them both laugh before Tony spoke in an almost adoring tone that McGee barely recognized as his.

"Oh my God, you need coffee so bad right now," he'd said. Nothing incriminating about that (setting aside the tone), and McGee probably would have let it go, if not for the exchange that followed.

"You know what you need?" Ziva asked him, but before she could answer her own question, Tony answered for her.

"Yes. I'm acutely aware. But you already told me I shouldn't expect to get it while Gibbs was in close quarters."

The comment _could_ have been passed off as innocent, if innuendo-y, if only it weren't followed by a distinct kissing sound. McGee came around the corner then, and although Tony's lips weren't near Ziva, his hand was resting possessively and with a great deal of familiarity on the back on her neck as she leaned against him. The touch lasted for barely two seconds and then Tony was two steps away from her, but McGee had definitely seen something more than friendly pass between them. Ever since then, his gut had been churning.

Now he was sitting at the dining table of the house while Gibbs was out tracking down bar staff, and Tony and Ziva were re-interviewing the victims' friends. McGee had three laptops going and was running background searches on their dead guys on two of them. The third was ready to receive Abby's call as soon as she'd cleaned up the surveillance footage he'd emailed to her that morning. He was keen to find out whether she'd gotten good head shots of their mystery women, but he was even keener to share the gossipy details of their friends' constantly changing relationship. Abby had been convinced that something was going on since before Christmas. Until now, McGee hadn't been so sure. But now…

"Hey, McGee!"

Speak of the devil. Or the Goth, anyway. McGee turned slightly to the third laptop and gave Abby his first genuine smile of the day. "Morning, Abs."

"Maybe for you," Abby said, getting so close to the camera that he could see the cute little crinkles around her eyes when she scowled. "It's getting on for dinner time here, and I still haven't got the care package you guys sent this morning. I've spent the day with your footage and craving beer and pretzels. What are you doing?"

"Background searches," McGee said tonelessly. "Trying to find a connection between the three victims."

"You get anything?"

"Not yet," he said, and rubbed his eyes. "Did you manage to clean up the surveillance footage?"

Green eyes glared back at him, and red lips set in a firm line. McGee quickly rephrased his question. "I mean, what did you manage to get off that so clean you could eat off it footage?"

She pointed a finger at him. "Nice save, Timmy. I got a good shot of the chick with Petty Officer Woods when she went to the bathroom. I mean, on her _way_ to the bathroom. Not, like, _in_ the bathroom while she was…"

"I get it."

"Right. So I got that. It's not perfect, but it might be enough for a vague comparison." She disappeared off screen for a moment, and McGee heard the clacking of her keyboard. "I'm sending it to you now. Along with a profile shot of the woman with Shaun Hill." She returned to the screen. "I managed to track them for a couple of hundred feet after they staggered out of the bar, but them lost them. And I mean staggered, McGee. You remember the time we had to get Tony out of O'Malley's when they 86'd him?"

McGee nodded and sent her a little wince. "He tripped over Kate's feet and they both fell into the street."

Abby nodded. "And then he laughed. I think that's when I knew for sure that they would _never_ hook up."

McGee saw his chance. "Hey, speaking of Tony hooking up with his partners? I think you're right about him and Ziva."

Abby suddenly got much closer to the camera. "Why? What happened? Tell me _everything_."

McGee glanced towards the front door to check that the coast was clear before he leant in towards her. "Well, when I was coming back from going to the bathroom on the plane, I'm pretty sure I saw him kiss the back of her hand."

Abby's smile dropped a little. "Kissed her hand?"

McGee nodded, not picking up that Abby wasn't as convinced by the act as he was. "And then yesterday, she squeezed his hand before she left the room."

"_Squeezed_ his hand?"

"Yeah. And then last night, she had her hand on his thigh during dinner."

Abby perked up a little. "Oh. Okay, so it was right up the top?"

McGee looked off to the side as he tried to remember. "Um, no. It was more towards the middle. She kind've just left it there for a second."

The smile fell again. "Right."

McGee held up a triumphant finger. "And then they had this conversation about how Tony's grandmother friended Ziva on FaceBook, and apparently loves her."

Abby nodded like this was old news. "Right. I'm actually friends with Tony's nonna on FaceBook, too. Donatella. She's _so_ sweet."

McGee looked momentarily hurt over being left out, but quickly dismissed it. "Okay, but then this morning, I'm sure I heard them kiss."

Abby looked at him with something approximating pity. "_Heard_ them, McGee?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah, and then when I came into the room, he had his hand on the back of her neck."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "You mean like he was about to strangle her?"

He missed her sarcasm. "No, like it was just resting there for a bit."

Abby twisted her lips and nodded, before summing up. "So, she touched his hand and his leg, and he touched her hand and her neck, and you heard something that could've been a kiss?"

He finally got that she wasn't as on board with this as he was. "I guess you've got to be here."

She nodded again, and then gave him a mocking thumbs up. "Okay, well, good job, McGee! Let me know if you find more evidence."

* * *

The morning was turning into a waste of time for Tony and Ziva. They had spoken to the people who were with both Noah Silverman and Shaun Hill on the nights they died, but so far they hadn't been able to find anything more useful than Agent Gale had. None of them had recognized the woman their friend went home with from previous occasions, and the only detail that they were all positive about was that both women had huge racks. One guy thought that the woman Hill was with might've been wearing a short green dress and was drinking a pink daiquiri, but admitted that it might've been a pink dress and a green daiquiri. None of them recalled ever getting a name.

Tony swung himself into the driver's seat of the 4x4 and glanced over at Ziva as she slid on her sunglasses. "Anonymous sex, huh?"

Ziva reclined back against the seat and closed her eyes, enjoying the sunshine. "All the kids are doing it, Tony," she 'lectured'.

"Apparently," he said, and gunned the engine. "Want to bet that Petty Officer Woods' buddies will be just as helpful as the other guys?"

"Don't be defeatist," she murmured, and then sighed. "A daiquiri sounds pretty good right now."

Tony checked the map that Agent Gale had left for them and tried to memorize the route to their next port of call. "I'm no good at mixing cocktails, but I can get you a beer later." He tossed the map back into the glove box, and then checked for traffic before pulling away from the curb. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mmm?"

He paused to acknowledge and then will away the sudden butterflies in his stomach. "Do you think Vance is really considering me for a team leader position?"

Ziva rolled her head against the seat to look at him. "I do not think it is a flex."

He had to think about that one. "Stretch?"

"Right, stretch," she repeated, and he knew she was committing that one to memory. "You are the most senior field agent the agency has, _and_ you've worked major case for almost ten years, _and_ you are extremely good at what you do. It makes sense to me."

He tried not to blatantly grin at her little cheerleader routine, but it _was_ nice when someone whose opinion you valued told you something like that.

"How do you feel about it?" she asked before his smile could get too out of control.

The butterflies came back. "Uh, undecided."

"Really?"

He shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. She'd never just let him get away with lying, would she? "Conflicted," he admitted. "If I want to be team leader, and if I want to do it at NCIS, I'm going to have to do it pretty soon or the brass will think I don't have the nerve. If I wait much longer, I'm probably going to have to move to another agency."

"That's how the brass feels about it, Tony," she pointed out. "I asked how _you_ feel about it. Do you want the position?"

Tony took a while to word his answer, but each time he thought he had it right, he got a sinking feeling in his chest. "Why is it that every way I think of wording this makes me feel like I'm letting you down?"

"Just tell me."

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I want it."

She nodded, pleased that he'd given her the truth. "Why is that letting me down?"

He stopped at an intersection and looked over at her. "Because I'm your partner," he said obviously. "I'm meant to have your back. Not leave it open for some other guy to check out."

The corner of her mouth turned up. "Well I am glad you are being honest about what you do back there."

He returned her smile briefly and hooked a left. "Only 90 per cent of the time."

"Forget me for a moment," she said. "Do you think leading your own team would be professionally fulfilling?"

"Yeah."

"And if you never did it, would you regret it?"

"Probably."

"So the only conflict comes from feeling like you'd be letting me down?" she tried to spell out. "Because that's not what you'd be doing."

"Is this you trying to get rid of me?" he tried to joke.

She ignored him, figuring that the comment was stupid it wasn't worthy of a response. "Is that it?" she pushed.

He sighed as he looked around and tried to work out if they were going in the right direction. "No, it's not the only part. I love our team, you know? I don't know what I did in a former life—and it'd have to be former, because I certainly haven't done anything noteworthy in this one—but somehow I hit the frigging jackpot with this team. The thought of going to anyone but Abby and Ducky for evidence results, or anyone but McGee for tech stuff, anyone but Gibbs for advice…" He trailed off and shook his head. "And I don't want another partner, because I've got it _so good_ with you. I know I do. We're good together, right?" He pointed between them. "This works. And I don't want to break it up."

Ziva watched him as he struggled, and resisted the strong urge to lean over and give him a tight, Abby-style hug. Frankly, she was slightly terrified over how she'd deal on a team without him. But this was the best move for him, she was sure of it, and she was adamant that she would continue to support the idea, regardless of how she personally felt about it.

"Yes, we're good together," she told him, and added a smile when he looked her way. "But I do not want to be responsible for holding you back."

"That's not exactly the message I was trying to convey," he started, but she held him off with a hand on his knee.

"I know. Just…don't be afraid to be the first one to leave," she told him gently. "In the next few years, Ducky will probably retire. And Gibbs will soon start hearing the siren song of a beach in Mexico. Eventually, the team will disband, whether you leave now or not."

Tony nodded, appreciating her rationalism. "Yeah."

"And even if you do leave, it will still be your team," she added. "You will probably be godfather to McGee's kids." She paused while he chuckled. "And I'm still going to be your partner. Even 20 years from now. I don't think it is something that will just…go away."

With his suddenly sentimental heart in his throat, Tony pulled the 4x4 up at the dock where they would be able to find the group Woods had been with. He cut the engine before twisting slightly to look at her, and neither of them made any further attempt to get out of the jeep.

"So you think I should talk to Vance about it," he summed up.

Ziva pushed her sunglasses up to rest atop her head. "I think that it would be good for you. And I don't think you're letting me down, and I don't think anyone will think you are abandoning us."

He held her gaze as he filed it all away for later consideration. He was glad he'd asked. The ninja made decisions with her logic and her head, whereas Tony generally made them with his emotions and his heart. He'd needed her perspective on this to make sure that the whole idea wasn't completely ridiculous. One thing he was sure of was that if Ziva thought it was, she would most certainly tell him.

"Thank you," he told her, and it wasn't just a perfunctory statement.

She smiled. "It is what I am here for, yes?" She reached out and lightly smacked his cheek, bringing them back to business. "Let's go hear some more about some woman's clown boobs."

* * *

An hour later, Tony and Ziva returned, dejected, to the base house. They'd learned nothing more from Woods' friends—short dress, big chest, never saw her before, never got a name. It was frustrating, to say the least.

"You want that beer now?" Tony offered.

Ziva swung past him and dropped her bag by the dining table next to McGee's. "Because Gibbs isn't going to be irritated with us enough already."

He nodded, conceding that she had a point, and they looked at McGee sitting at the table. His eyes were going back and forth between three laptops, and his mouth was hanging slightly open.

"Ooh, watch closely and you might see the light bulb go off over his head," Tony said quietly to her.

Indeed, McGee did appear to be on the verge of a breakthrough, and Tony and Ziva stood quietly as he did another sweep of the laptops, and then checked the calendar on the phone in his hand. Then, he dropped the phone and turned to them with a huge, proud smile.

"I got it!"

"If I come closer, will I get it too?" Tony asked with a grimace.

Ziva leant over the table beside McGee. "What is it?"

"Base medical centre," McGee said. "Each victim's file has a record of sick days being taken in the week before they were found dead. They each would have had to have seen a doctor at the medical centre to be absent."

Tony and Ziva didn't jump up and down just yet.

"So, maybe our women worked at the medical centre?" Ziva started. "And then made dates with them and…decided to kill them?" She shot a look at Tony that clearly said she was grasping at straws.

Tony shrugged back at her. "Maybe they asked the women to pay for their drinks?"

McGee reached over to a pile of folders and picked up a piece of paper from the top. "Abby got these off the tapes. These are the women Woods and Hill were with."

Ziva took it and Tony peered over her shoulder. "They are a little fuzzy," she said. "I don't suppose these would be suitable for facial recognition software?"

McGee shook his head. "No. The quality is too degenerated. But if we flashed it around, someone might recognize them."

Tony took the paper and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "McGee, call Gibbs and tell him to meet me at the medical centre."

McGee stood up as Ziva put her hands on her hips. "Why do you get to go?" McGee whined. "It's my lead, and I've been sitting in here all day!"

Tony backed up towards the door. "Yeah, but I've got the car keys."

"You just want to find the women with the big boobs!" Ziva called after him.

They barely heard his response before the door swung shut. "Yeah, that too."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I meant to post this last night, but got caught up in MasterChef craziness. Woo Adam! I'd like to steam _your_ pork buns, love. (Uh, I'm not sure what that means.)**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Juliet Spencer's endowments certainly lived up to the hype.

Tony and Gibbs found her purely by accident that afternoon when they visited the medical center on base. There she was, sitting behind the reception desk, stuffed into a nurse's uniform and with a stack of blonde hair piled atop of her head. After his first look, Tony had smoothly stepped away from the desk to examine a colorful poster explaining the respiratory system, and left Gibbs to deal with her wide-eyed smile and breathy voice. There was no way in hell he was going to set himself up for a slapping—from Gibbs _or_ Ziva.

The doctor they got to speak to after a 45-minute wait was adamant that he couldn't share any medical information about the victims without sighting a death certificate, but all Tony and Gibbs needed was a confirmation that they'd been recently treated at the center. After receiving that, and eavesdropping on a phone call Juliet had about her plans for the night, they'd left the center and drove back to the house to hatch a plan.

That plan was the reason that Ziva and McGee were now dressed up and sitting at a table in the Manta Ray bar in downtown Honolulu. Gibbs and Tony sat in the sedan outside, connected to the others with by comms link and waiting to provide backup in the unlikely event that Ziva and McGee would need it. Although the medical examiner's report had not pointed to any of the navy men having sex before they died, Juliet was far from off the hook. Just because she apparently hadn't slept with them, didn't mean she hadn't killed them. The team wanted to observe her in her natural habitat, as it were, and get a sense of how a date with her progressed in the hope that it would provide some answers.

So far Juliet hadn't made an appearance, but Gibbs and Tony were sure they'd spot her when she did. In the meantime, Tony passed the time by sulking over the fact that Ziva and McGee got to sit in comfortable chairs with tasty drinks.

"How's that daiquiri treating you, Ziva?" Tony asked over the comm link.

"Mmm, it's delicious," she drawled, rubbing it in. "How's your takeout cola and cheeseburger?"

"Tastes like the hopes and dreams of my childhood."

Ziva clucked her tongue. "And to think, Tony. If you'd only let McGee chase down his own lead this afternoon, Juliet would never have seen your face and you'd be the one sitting in here sipping…What is that you're drinking, McGee?"

"If it's a Shirley Temple, I'm coming in there to smack you," Tony shot in.

McGee gave Ziva a tired look, but he perked up when he heard the sound of Gibbs' hand connecting with the back of Tony's head.

"Do you think it's too early?" McGee asked. "It's only 2100. It seems early for…you know."

"Finding sexual partners for the evening?" Ziva asked.

McGee shifted in his seat. "Yeah."

"Oh right, I forgot to tell you that Juliet Spencer said in her phone call that she wasn't going to turn up until 0200," Tony snarked. "I should've mentioned that earlier."

Ziva and McGee rolled their eyes at each other, but it did give McGee a moment's pause.

"Geez, what of she doesn't turn up until 0200?"

"Then you'll sit there and enjoy your date until 0200, McGee," Gibbs gruffed.

"The bar closes at midnight," Ziva assured him.

"Besides," Tony cut in. "Nothing good happens after 2am. Everyone knows that. No, she's not going to wait that much longer. She'll need two hours at least to scope, pick up and…" He trailed off when he noticed Gibbs was glaring at him. He tried out McGee's phrasing. "You know."

After a silent pause, Ziva said, "That is not true."

"What?"

"That nothing good happens after 2am."

Tony chuckled knowingly. "It's completely true."

"What about the time we saw that naked lady dancing in the giant margarita glass?"

Gibbs' head turned to look at Tony, eyebrows almost as high as his hairline. Tony just smiled whimsically.

"Yeah, that was pretty sweet. But it doesn't count."

"What? Why not?" Ziva demanded

"It was in New York," Tony said, shrugging and spreading his hands like she was standing right in front of him. "The 2am rule doesn't apply in New York and Las Vegas."

"Now you're just making stupid rules for your stupid rule."

"It's not stupid!" he argued.

"Yes, Tony," Ziva explained with forced patience. "It's stupid. You're getting confused with the _don't feed a gremlin after midnight _rule."

Tony smiled proudly at his film student's progress. "Okay, you get a point for that reference, but you're still wrong. McGee?"

McGee gave Ziva a look of apology. "Sorry, Ziva. Gotta side with Tony on this one."

Ziva muttered something in Hebrew, but she didn't back down just yet. "What about when we played Twister last week? You laughed so hard your eye almost popped out."

"Yeah, but we were at my place. Not out. Doesn't count."

Gibbs sighed heavily, _pointedly_, but they either didn't hear him or ignored him.

"Why were you guys playing Twister at 2am?" McGee wanted to know. Sort of.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Ziva said with a shrug.

"Make a note, Probie. If you ever play Twister with Abby, insist that she takes of her spiked dog collar first."

"Abby was there?"

"She had an unfair advantage," Ziva agreed.

Tony scoffed and muttered, "Unfair advantage."

The comment fired Ziva up again. "Tony, they're attached to me. It is not my fault. My left hand had to go an green, and—"

"Okay, _enough_," Gibbs cut in. "One more word from any of you that isn't related to this case, and I'm sending you back to DC to clear out your desk. Clear?"

He was met with sulking silence. Stupid Dad always had to ruin the fun.

* * *

Ten quiet minutes later, Tony's eyes were drawn up the street to the figure of Juliet Spencer, swinging her hips as she passed under the neon light of a Chinese restaurant and drawing looks from just about everyone she passed. He nudged Gibbs' arm and pointed with his chin.

"Incoming."

Gibbs found her without having to look too hard. "Ziva, McGee, target's on her way in."

What is she wearing?" Ziva asked.

Tony blinked. Crap, he'd looked at Juliet not three seconds ago and he literally had no idea. "Um…"

"Shiny red thing," Gibbs supplied.

Ziva rolled her eyes at McGee before scanning the bar. "Okay. You just described every other woman in this…" She trailed off as her eyes settled on a red-haired woman walk into the bar. The glittery red dress that she'd poured herself into was, for now, making a valiant effort to keep her top-heavy figure contained, but Ziva thought that one false move could bring the whole thing down. "Oh my."

McGee followed Ziva's gaze, and his mouth literally dropped open. In all his life, he had never seen bigger… "She looks like Jessica Rabbit," he murmured.

Ziva frowned. "Rabbit?"

Tony chuckled as Juliet's outfit came back to him. "Oh yeah. Nice one, McGee."

Juliet swung her hips around a group of men who almost twisted their necks to keep their gaze on her, and then broke into a wide-eyed smile at the sight of a guy sitting at the bar. He stood to greet her with open arms, and Ziva snapped a discreet shot of him with her phone before sending it to Tony.

"Sending through her companion."

"Got it. I'll see if I can get an ID."

Ziva sipped her drink and glanced at her own companion. "McGee," said, and kicked him under the table. "Your mouth is still open."

"Oh." McGee looked away as his cheeks flushed, and took a big gulp of water.

Ziva smirked, and leaned over to lay her hand on his arm and run her thumb over his sleeve. As soon as she touched him, McGee jumped and snatched his arm back, and spluttered water over the table. Ziva handed him her napkin, and he used it to wipe up the drops of water down the front of his shirt, while looking at her with eyes that verged on frightened.

She gave him a smile like she thought his bumbling was cute, but warned him under her breath. "We're on a date, Tim," she pointed out. "Relax and stop jumping every time I touch you. I'm not going to kill you."

In the car, Tony raised his eyes from the ID search running on the laptop to consider her warning. Where exactly was she touching him that was making him jump?

"She was a blonde this afternoon, right?" Gibbs cut in.

Tony nodded. He was sure of that. "Yeah."

"She is wearing a wig," Ziva said. "Certainly not top of the line, human hair. But it would pass as real to a drunk man in a dark bar."

"So our three women could actually just be one," Tony said. "Well that's easier."

"They make wigs out of human hair?" McGee asked, wrinkling his nose. "Why would you want to wear someone else's hair?"

They heard Gibbs sigh, and McGee didn't push for an answer. "What are they up to, Ziva?"

Ziva faked a laugh and flipped her hair over her shoulder to cover her while she checked. "First round," she replied. "Still an appropriate distance between them."

"Can you hear what's being said?"

"No. It is too noisy in here."

"McGee, you ever learn to lip read like Abby asked you to?"

McGee recovered from his little freak out, and put a confident hand on top of Ziva's. "No, boss."

"ID, Tony?" Ziva asked.

"Not Navy. Expanding the search."

Ziva lifted her glass and sighed into her drink. She had a feeling they wouldn't be leaving before closing.

An hour later, McGee tried not to squirm as Ziva's foot ran up the inside of his calf. He gave her a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Ziva chuckled and dropped her foot. "Sorry, McGee. Easy target."

"How about our actual target, David?" Gibbs barked.

"Five drinks down," she reported. "His hand is just starting to slip under the hem of her dress, plenty of kissing, but I don't think they're ready to leave just yet."

Tony shifted in his car seat and yawned behind his hand. "Wake me when it gets to the good part." He closed his eyes, but could feel Gibbs' eyes boring into the side of his head. His eyes popped open. "Just kidding, boss."

"You think you can take it easy now that you've ID tonight's bachelor?"

Tony glanced at the laptop displaying the driver's license of Frederick Bates. "Well, it was pretty hard to find, boss."

"McGee woulda found that in five minutes," Gibbs muttered.

"Yeah, and I wouldn't have spat water all over Ziva when she touched my hand," Tony shot back. "We all have our strengths."

"And another of yours is mouthing off," Gibbs said before tipping back some more coffee.

Tony gave him a smile that couldn't be classified as anything other than bitchy. "Well it complements the one of yours where you yell all the time for no good reason."

Inside the bar, Ziva and McGee exchanged worried glances, which then turned curious at the burst of laughter that came across the comm link from _both_ men.

"Gentlemen?" Ziva checked.

"At ease, ninja," Tony said. "It's just cabin fever."

McGee fielded Ziva's frown. "Craziness from being stuck inside for too long."

Ziva fingered the rim of her glass. "I know the feeling."

Tony was about to take her to task over the oh-so-difficult job of sitting in a nice bar, sipping cocktails and watching two people who hadn't moved in an hour, but Gibbs was nudging him.

"Isn't that one of the doctors from the medical center?"

Tony squinted at the guy standing outside the bar in a black shirt and pants, and tried to imagine him in a long white coat and light brown uniform. "Uh, yeah. I think so."

"McGee, Ziva, keep an eye on a male about the enter the bar. About five foot ten, 160, dark hair, clean shaven, black shirt and pants."

The agents on the inside spotted him as soon as he walked inside, and Ziva got a little tug in her gut when she noticed his eyes almost immediately fall on Juliet Spencer. That was interesting.

"He has already noticed her," she reported.

"Kinda hard to miss, Zee-vah."

She rolled her eyes and briefly considered what Tony's initial reaction to the sight of the receptionist would have been. She suspected something along the lines of his eyes bulging out of his head and tongue unraveling on the floor, cartoon-style. Not that she blamed him. Ziva suspected that Juliet got that kind of reaction just about every day.

Her gut tugged again as she started developing a theory, but she put it aside as the doctor came their way. She waited until he was passing behind McGee to snap a photo of him, and then sent it off to Tony. A few moments later she heard fingers tapping on the laptop, and she knew Tony was looking for a positive ID.

Ziva and McGee watched the doctor watch Juliet as he walked all the way around the other side of the bar, and then claim a stool that gave him a good line of sight.

"Hmm," Ziva aimed at McGee.

"Doesn't look like he's meeting with anyone," McGee said for the benefit of Gibbs and Tony. "He's sitting by himself at the end of the bar and looking at her."

"Doctor Gus Werner, 37," Tony supplied. "He's been on base at the medical center for a year. Previously stationed at the base in sunny San Diego. Never married, no listed dependents."

Ziva watched as the bartender put a glass of beer in front of Werner. He handed over a bill without taking his eyes off the couple, who were now engaged in a lip lock that was slightly inappropriate for public consumption.

"I don't like this guy," she murmured.

There was a flurry of key clicks over the comm link. "No priors," Tony reported.

"Ziva?" Gibbs prompted.

"He's just sitting there, watching them," she reported. "And—"

"Wait, there's someone heading his way," McGee cut in. "The blonde in the black dress."

Ziva caught sight of her a moment before she reached Werner. His face lit up when he looked at her, and he stood to give her a kiss on the cheek. The woman then sat down on the stool beside him, and looked like she was settling in for a while.

"Looks like he's got a date," McGee reported.

"Photo?" Tony asked hopefully.

"Really bad angle," McGee said, and looked to Ziva. "Can you get a shot?"

"Not from here. But I can if I'm coming back from the bathroom."

"Turn your comm link off before you do that," Tony requested.

Ziva fought the urge to roll her eyes before she kissed McGee's cheek for show and left the table. "I'm not actually _going_, Tony. It's just pretend."

He sounded surprised. "Seriously? But you've had, like, three drinks. How are you—"

"Do you really want to talk about my bladder right now?" she cut in, managing to sound threatening even though she had to say it without moving her mouth too much.

There was a pause. "Actually, no. I don't _ever_ want to have that conversation with you."

"Then we're all agreed," Gibbs said, starting to sound grossly irritated again.

Ziva ducked into the ladies' room, and bypassed the line for the stalls to head to the sinks. She picked some lipstick out of her little purse, and then leant over the sink to peer into the mirror and reapply it as if it were a vitally important task.

"I love that shade."

Ziva looked at the young blonde girl standing at the mirror next to her.

"I'm too pale to carry off something that dark without looking like some gothic freak, and I get lipstick envy."

Ziva blotted at her work with a paper towel. "Thank you," she tried, finding this girl talk thing harder when her three male colleagues were listening in. "It's my favorite."

Pale blue eyes looked her up and down with envy and self-deprecation. "You've got that gorgeous skin that can pull it off. Man, I'd kill to have skin like that. No amount of tanning is going to get me there, you know? Where are you from?"

Ziva deliberately misunderstood the question and let some newly acquired American pride shine through. "Washington."

The girl blinked, and clearly thought about rephrasing her question, but Ziva threw her a smile and left the bathroom again. She swore under her breath in plain English, causing Tony and Gibbs to snicker.

"Is that what women talk about in the bathroom?" Tony asked. "Lipstick and skin?"

"Only in between brushing each others' hair and the tickle fights," she muttered, and reached into her purse again to take out her phone. She stood outside the bathroom and acted like she was typing a text message while she selected the camera feature, and then casually held the phone up as if looking for better light. She snapped a photo of Werner's blonde, sent it to Tony, and then casually returned to the table.

McGee looked vaguely amused when's he sat down across from him. "Great lipstick," he said with a wink.

"Shut up, McGee." She looked behind him and was mildly surprised to see Werner gone from his seat. She scanned the area quickly, and relaxed when she caught sight of him again, six feet from Juliet. "Werner is saying hello to Juliet."

McGee turned slightly and watched as Juliet gave Werner a big, welcoming smile and kissed his cheek. Then the pointed at her date, and the two men shook hands.

"She doesn't seem bothered to see him," Ziva told the others. "Happy smiles all round."

"How does his date, Laura Martin, feel about that?" Tony asked, then said to Gibbs, "That's two IDs I did in under five minutes, boss."

"Shut up, DiNozzo."

"She's heading for the bathroom," McGee said. "Maybe she needs someone to brush her hair."

"She is touching his arm quite a bit," Ziva reported. "Batting her eyelashes. Leaning over a little. Her date doesn't seem pleased."

For the next few minutes, Ziva and McGee watched Juliet flirt with Werner, seemingly oblivious to Frederick Bates' growing frustration. Eventually Bates said something short, sharp and to the point, causing Juliet to blink in surprise, and Werner to step back and leave them alone. Juliet seemed flustered as Bates spoke to her with an angry expression and red cheeks, and then he suddenly got up, threw some money on the bar, and stormed out.

"Bates is leaving," McGee told Tony and Gibbs.

"Stay with Juliet," Gibbs told them, as Bates appeared in the doorway of the bar and then headed a few feet up the street before crossing to the other side.

"Dodged a bullet, buddy," Tony muttered.

"How's our girl?" Gibbs asked.

"Dabbing at her tears with a napkin," Ziva replied. "Now she's standing up and heading for the door."

"Date's over," Gibbs told them, though Ziva was already halfway out of her seat.

The engine on the sedan was already running by the time Ziva and McGee piled into the back seat, and then Gibbs took off at breakneck speed while he tried to catch up with the cab that had practically stopped in the middle of the street to pick up Juliet's fare. They caught up after two blocks, and then followed from two car lengths as the cab drove her to an apartment building a few miles from the navy base. Gibbs parked down the street and they watched as Juliet shimmied out of the cab and walked up the path and into the building. McGee pulled up Juliet's drivers' license and checked the address against the building.

"Home address, boss."

"Looks like she's done for the night," Tony said.

Gibbs tapped his fingers against the wheel as he ran through possibilities of what he could do tonight. He wanted to question her, but if she was upset about Bates walking out on her, Gibbs didn't think they'd get anything useful out of her.

"We'll bring her in tomorrow," Gibbs told them. "I want to know what happened on those dates."

**

* * *

Thanks to those of you who continue to review. It's nice to know someone's enjoying this. Next up is the demon child chapter seven - please be patient while I add a bit more spit and shine to it.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Stupid chapter 7. Ziva's internal monologue is always so hard. The author is displeased. **

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Ziva was finding it hard to wind down.

For what felt like the 50th time in a half hour, she shifted her position in bed, rolling onto her side and balling the pillow up under her head. The position was comfortable for the moment, but she knew that it wouldn't last long. Although she was properly tired, she didn't feel like she wanted to be in bed right now. She wanted to be up and moving, or to at least be doing something constructive to occupy her mind until her eyelids drooped and she drifted off to sleep. She wanted to put her restlessness down to the time difference, but as an experienced traveler, she knew that wasn't the case.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and looked out her open bedroom door. Across the hall, the real cause of her edginess had left his door open too. Ziva couldn't hear him, but she could sense that he was asleep, and she knew Gibbs and McGee were as well. The idea to slip in there and lie down with him crossed her mind, and the good, low-down tingle she felt confirmed that it really was what she was after right now. Pity there was no chance she could actually have it. Aside from telling Tony that this shouldn't be a naked business trip, stripping the man down and making him yell wouldn't be the best manners while sharing a house with their colleagues.

She groaned to herself and flipped over onto her other side. If she was being honest, it wasn't just sex she was craving. She wanted his warmth, his smell, his weight at her back—all the things that were becoming so familiar to her even though their sleepovers were still irregular. Over the last few months, she'd easily become accustomed to his presence while she slept, and just two nights together in a row took days of missing him to get over. She could try to deny it, but she knew she wanted those nights to be the norm, rather than the exception.

The problem was that she didn't know how to tell him that. When she'd said on the plane that she hated those relationshippy conversations, she'd absolutely meant it. At times, Ziva was barely able to even recognize her feelings when she had them, and the thought of trying to explain them to another person made her want to tear her hair out. Not only that, but she wasn't used to letting herself be vulnerable. All her life, she'd been encouraged to take the lead and control the situation. Manipulate it to achieve the outcome she was looking for. But if she was serious about this thing they were doing—and God help her, she was—she couldn't do that. Instead, she'd have to be honest about what she wanted, and then try to deal with the fallout and rejection if he didn't want the same thing.

That thought gnawed away at her. She really didn't know if he wanted the same thing she did. Yes, he'd been upfront in Paris and told her he loved her. But that didn't necessarily mean that he wanted to be in a defined relationship with her. She'd been in love with _him_ for years, and it was only recently that she'd felt ready to act on it. What if he wasn't ready for more? What if what they were doing now was the extent of what he could deal with? She didn't want to tell him she wanted more and then make him feel obliged to agree with her. Or put him on the spot and have him say no, and then potentially screw things up for them in the future.

With a scowl, Ziva flipped again. Damn it. She should _never_ have told him about her conversation with Gibbs. She wouldn't be obsessing over these ridiculous thoughts if she'd kept it to herself. Now that she'd said it, everything had suddenly started feeling much more serious. Though she hadn't just been playing around with him before, now she definitely couldn't keep pretending that she wasn't as invested in it working out as she really was. And since Tony now knew that Gibbs was aware of the situation and was accepting it, her ready-made excuse for backing out if she freaked out was gone. She could no longer lie and say _Sorry it didn't work out, but Gibbs would never have gone for it anyway. At least we'll always have Paris._

Her heart rate was picking up now with her growing panic, and she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Before she could completely lose it though, Sensible Ziva's voice cut through and told her to calm down. What the hell was she getting so worried about? That Tony didn't want her as much as she wanted him? Sensible Ziva knew that he did. That she would make an idiot of herself and cause irreparable damage if she was _honest_ with him about what she wanted? Sensible Ziva doubted that. It was _Tony_, for God's sake. Forgiving, intuitive, loyal-to-a-fault Tony. If she opened up, if she let herself be vulnerable, he'd have her back.

She felt the panic subside as her rational side started reasserting itself. She could tell him she wanted more. He might give her a bit of crap for going against what she'd said on the plane, but she could deal with that. Still, she thought it might be wise to hold off on telling him for just a little while. Not too long, just until this team leader thing became a little clearer. It was all just speculation at the moment, based on a rumor that a guy they'd just met had brought up. It was possible that Vance wasn't actually considering Tony to take over Agent Michaels' team (although Ziva's gut told her he had to be the frontrunner). If they stayed as they were, Ziva thought things would probably progress more slowly. Working six feet away from someone for 16 hours a day meant that there were times when you couldn't wait to leave them and not see or think about them again until you arrived back at work the next day. Ziva suspected that this was one of the main reasons things had been so irregular between them. They were both people who valued space and alone time.

But if Tony did take over Michaels' team, that would give them the space they needed to feel comfortable progressing things. Being separated at work would be much healthier for them at home, although it would obviously be a huge professional blow. Not just for Ziva, but for all of Team Gibbs. Their entire dynamic would be thrown off, and they'd have to deal with bringing in a Fake Tony. Ziva would desperately miss sitting across from him every day and relying on his insight and guts in the field. Hell, she couldn't even think about the possibility now without feeling tears prick the back of her eyes. But when she weighed what she would lose against everything she stood to gain personally, she was sure, completely positive, that it would be worth it.

She turned her head to look across the hall again, and this time, she smiled. Whatever happened, whether he left the team or not, she'd still be with him. Whether they took it real slow, or moved things along, they'd still be moving forward. No need to panic about any of this.

With her freak out now over and her thoughts clear, Ziva expected that she might finally be able to get some sleep. But it seemed she'd worked herself up too much and had missed her chance. While she wasn't exactly restless anymore, she was capital 'A' Awake. With an epic sigh, she gave in and threw back the covers. If she wasn't going to get any sleep (or get laid), she may as well do something productive. She took a book out of her rucksack—a hefty tome about the founding fathers—and headed for the living room.

Barely five minutes later, she heard a noise in the hallway and looked up in time to see Tony wandering into the room. He hid a yawn behind his hand and then shot her a sleepy smile, and Ziva's stomach flipped with affection. She looked him up and down to cover how squishy she was feeling towards him.

"Is this a formal occasion?" she asked, keeping her voice low. At Tony's head cock and frown, she explained, "You are wearing pants to bed."

He smiled and attacked an itch on his shoulder. "I'm making the effort for others," he told her, gesturing back down the hall. "If it was just you here, clothing would be offensive."

"Obviously."

Tony glanced at the book in her hand, but didn't even try to read the title. "You can't sleep," he stated.

Ziva shrugged. "Just restless."

He gave her a wolfish smile. "Want me to take the edge off?"

Ziva didn't try to pass off her 'oh God, yes please' look as anything else. He'd hit the nail on the head, and she had a sense that he was experiencing the same problem. But she wasn't inviting him to actually make a move, and he knew it. Acting on their desires right now really would be terribly rude.

Tony crawled up the chaise and lay down on his stomach, perpendicular to her. He grabbed a throw pillow and shoved it under his head, and then closed his eyes.

"You should go back to bed," Ziva told him, even though his presence was what she'd been craving.

Tony snuggled a little more into the couch. "I'm good here."

A moment of silence passed, and then he heard the soft thud of Ziva's book being placed on the coffee table. He cracked an eye open to see her flipping over to lie on her stomach, and she propped herself up on her elbows. Tony eyeballed the cleavage spilling over the top of the tank she wore, and groaned before squeezing his eyes shut. He heard her chuckle.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Tony grunted, not quite believing that it was an innocent act. A second later, he felt her fingertips stroke through his hair, followed by the touch of her warm lips to his cheek. He caught her hand before she pulled it away and kissed her knuckles. He wondered if she realized how snugly she got with him sometimes, especially when she was sleepy.

"Tell me," Ziva said softly, "does your nothing good happens after 2am rule also apply to Paris?"

Tony slid into a smile and opened his eyes again. Ziva had moved her arm in front of her 'unfair advantage'. "No. It's in the same category as New York and Las Vegas."

She gave him a sidelong glance as she smiled. "What about hotel rooms?

"Usually they don't count," Tony told her. "Unless you're in Paris."

Her smile turned amused. "Very smooth, Tony."

Tony glanced back down the hallway to check that the coast was clear, and then propped himself up enough so that he could lean over and kiss her. Ziva moaned into his mouth at the familiar weight she'd been craving, but he pulled back before she could deepen it. She heaved an epic, frustrated sigh.

Tony pointed at her warningly. "Don't sigh like that at me. You're the one who declared this as a clothes on trip."

Ziva made a face at herself. "I can be very annoying at times."

Tony gave her his most neutral face in reply.

"Are you going to sleep out here all night?" she asked.

"Are you?"

Ziva shrugged, and stretched her arm out so she could wind her fingertips into his hair, and use her bicep as a pillow.

"It's a comfortable couch," he offered, closing his eyes again. "Not as comfortable as yours, but…"

"Are you talking about my new couch, or the old one you threw up on?"

Tony sighed at the already old 'argument'. "For the four hundredth time, I'm _sorry_ about that. And anyway, you lost your right to complain about that as soon as I bought you a new couch."

"I liked my old couch," Ziva muttered.

"Well I didn't," he said on a yawn. "It wasn't long enough for me. It hurt my back." At Ziva's pointed silence, Tony frowned. "Oh, that's real nice, Ziva. You know what? I'm taking that couch when we break up."

He was obviously joking in response to Ziva's own jibes, and she took the comment about as seriously as he'd intended her to. "You can have it."

"You can have Ducky," Tony offered.

Ziva snorted. "Oh, I am taking Ducky, Tony," she said resolutely. "And McGee."

Tony shook his head, even though both of them still had their eyes closed. "No, you can't have McGee."

"But you will take Abby!" Ziva argued. "You cannot have Abby _and_ McGee. That is just greedy. And besides, McGee likes me better than he likes you."

Tony gasped for effect. "That is not true.

"It is. He told me."

"Did not."

She smirked. "One or the other, Tony. Not both. McGee or Abby."

"There is no chance that you're getting Abby," he snorted. "And if you try to take her, I will sue you for everything you have _and_ take McGee back."

"Fine."

Tony did the math. "Wait, that means you get McGee _and_ Ducky, and I only get Abby."

Ziva smiled outright. "You will get Palmer. And I'll throw in Vance."

Tony decided they didn't have enough friends to go around. "We're going to have to share Gibbs."

Ziva nodded. "I know." When he didn't come back with anything, she declared the joke over and started scratching his scalp in little circles, in the way she'd recently discovered turned him into a little puddle of special agent goo. Tony resisted the urge to curl up and start purring.

"Seriously, though," he said, his voice drawn with pleasure. "How comfortable is your new couch?"

Ziva told him the truth. "It is the most comfortable couch I have ever had. I want to marry that couch."

Tony thought she'd have to fight him for the privilege. "I want to have babies with that couch."

"Ohh," Ziva drawled. "_That's_ what you were trying to do the other night."

Tony didn't miss a beat. "You didn't even know we were having a threesome."

* * *

The fact that McGee knew he was dreaming didn't make the situation any less enjoyable. Tonight, he was creeping through a building of some sort, searching for the path to freedom for himself and his lady love. Faceless men were after them for reasons his subconscious hadn't yet come up with, and it was down to Tim to save the day. He held his gun out ahead of him as he swept the darkened room, and then glanced behind him to look at Abby. Her beautiful green eyes were wide with worry, but she softened when she saw him. He tightened his grip on her hand and leaned in to give her cheek a reassuring kiss.

"Don't worry, Abs," he told her. "I've got your back. I'll get you out of this."

Abby nodded and gave him an adorning smile. "I know you will, Timmy."

Tim nodded, and then pulled her through the darkened room. He was just about to suggest that they set up camp there for the night (apparently he'd decided that the threat was now gone), when he started hearing chainsaws from around the corner. Curiosity took hold, and he poked his head around the doorframe to see what was going on. The noise remained but there was no sign of its source. Tim fumed. A chainsaw symphony was not very romantic.

"Do you hear…?" he started, but when he looked around, Abby was gone. "Damn it!"

In his temporary bedroom in Pearl Harbor, McGee's eyes flew open. He could still hear the chainsaws…no, it wasn't a chainsaw. But what _was_ it?

He pushed back the covers on his bed and reached for his gun off the nightstand. He approached the window from the side, careful not to expose himself to attack from…whatever it was. But when he peeked around the curtain, the backyard was clear and quiet.

With a deep frown, McGee looked around the room. Where the hell was that coming from? His eyes settled on the closed door, and he focused his hearing beyond it. Yes, it was definitely coming from out there. He took three steps over and cracked open the door to listen, and decided that the noise was definitely coming from a human, albeit one who appeared the be in agony.

He stepped out into the hall and then followed the noise to the living room as quietly as he could. When he eventually found the source of the deafening death rattle, he could barely believe it.

"Is that _her_?"

From his position standing in front of Ziva on the couch, Tony looked back over his shoulder at McGee and snickered. Partly because yes, it was unbelievable that someone so small and feminine-looking could make the noise currently rattling the doors and windows of the house, and partly because McGee had come to the party with his gun.

"Yeah," Tony said softly. "Real ladylike, huh?"

McGee took two more steps towards them. "Is she sick?" he asked, completely serious.

Tony snickered some more and shook his head before turning back to Ziva. He bent over, and McGee watched as, instead of smacking her upside the head and waking her up, Tony put one hand on her shoulder, and one low on her hip. McGee winced—surely there was a rule about touching the sleeping ninja?—and Ziva did visibly tense. But then Tony gently brushed her hair off her face and leant closer to her.

"It's okay," he told her. "It's just me."

Ziva made a kind of sleepy moaning sound as she relaxed again, and then Tony gently manipulated her body so that she was lying on her side, facing the back of the couch. He grabbed an errant throw pillow by her feet, and lifted her head before sliding the pillow under it. The snoring stopped, either because she was partially awake now, or because the position was better for her airways. He stroked her hair again, and from McGee's position it looked like he was about to lean in to kiss her. But he stopped himself and straightened up again.

Tony turned to McGee and shot him a grin. "The beast has retired for the evening," he said, adding an eye roll that McGee didn't actually believe. "You can go back to bed."

McGee didn't ask how Tony knew how to get Ziva to stop snoring. Or whether he was aware that he'd just about kissed her. Or how he'd gotten that bite mark on his shoulder. "Is she sleeping out here?"

"She got restless," Tony told him. He stepped around the chaise, and as he passed McGee, he gave him a clap on the arm. "Scoot along, Timmy. The damsel is no longer in distress."

McGee shrugged to himself and turned around again, and then took advantage of being awake to visit the little boys' room. On his way back to bed, he couldn't help peeking back into the living room. Ziva hadn't moved, but Tony was now sitting on the chaise by her head, his head resting heavily in one hand. He wasn't touching her, or even looking at her, but there was something in his presence and the set of his shoulders that told McGee that Tony would be spending the rest of the night out there.

When McGee got back to his room, he set the alarm on his phone for 0500. He wanted to be awake in time to see Gibbs kick their asses to Maui and back when he stumbled on that 'adorable' little scene in the morning.

**

* * *

**

**Hmm, I don't know about this. I think my initial problem was that I kept sitting down to write it in front of MasterChef, and I had to stop every 20 seconds to scream something about parfait or "Stop sooking into your V8 cake!" at my TV. Not exactly a writing-friendly environment. And now every time I read this over, I think about sashimi and pheasant. Man, this story is messing with my writing mojo.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Warning for some mid-level adult situations in the beginning of this chapter (low-level for me, but others might disagree). Skip to the section under the first line if you want to avoid it. You won't miss anything important.**

**Dedicated to my Labrador, who was so well behaved at the vet's this morning that I was convinced he wasn't mine. Who's a good boy?**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Gibbs was only mildly surprised when the front door to the house swung open at 0600. He was aware that Ziva liked to get her exercise in first thing in the morning, but he hadn't heard her leave the house, and he wondered for a moment if Tony had been right all along. Maybe she really was a ninja.

She breezed into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her torso and wet curls hanging around her shoulders, and shot Gibbs a smile as she headed for the fridge. "Morning."

Gibbs grunted in response. "What time do you call this to be getting home?"

She frowned as she grabbed some juice out of the fridge, but the hint of humor in Gibbs' eyes caught her up that he was making a dad joke. "I was not aware I had a curfew. If I had been, I would have climbed in through my bedroom window."

There was a part of Gibbs that was very pleased he hadn't met a 16-year-old Ziva. "When did you go out?"

"About an hour ago. It's a beautiful day." She gulped down her juice and put the glass straight in the dishwasher. "I will be ready in 20 minutes."

Gibbs nodded at her back as she retreated down the hallway. "Get DiNozzo up."

"Got it," she called back.

She took a detour to Tony's room and opened the door, expecting him to be awake already. He was still burrowed deep under the covers though, his face relaxed in sleep and breathing deeply. Ziva quietly closed the door behind her and crept over to him, then leant over, dangled her wet hair over his face, and squeezed.

"Gah!" Tony cried as drops of water hit his face, and he pushed himself back to the middle of the bed. He wiped his cheek with his hand as Ziva chuckled, but as soon as he worked out what was going on, he tugged at a corner of her towel. Ziva let him take it.

"Good morning, Tony," she purred as he used the towel to wipe his face.

"Morning," he grumbled, but his irritation quickly evaporated when he noticed that Ziva was now standing before him in nothing more than a bikini. "Did you go for a swim?" he asked, letting his eyes rake over her damp, toned body.

"In the ocean. The water is beautiful."

Tony tossed the towel behind him and scooted closer to her. "If you do that again tomorrow, you should wake me up."

Ziva snorted at the thought of Tony getting out of bed before 0500 and retied the knot on her right hip. "Why? Would you like to join me?"

"No, I just want to watch you," he murmured, his eyes now focused on the flimsy knot on her hip and how easy it would be to just…

He reached out to grab her hand and yanked her down on top of him. Ziva went willingly, and let out a throaty laugh as Tony's hands went to her damp butt. He was expecting her to squirm free, but instead she rocked her hips firmly against his and brushed her lips against the ultra sensitive skin of his neck. He hummed into her ear and slide his hand up her bare back.

"I thought you said you wouldn't sleep with me on this trip," he said, even as he pushed his hand into her hair to hold her head and mouth _right there_.

She rocked her hips some more and ran her hand down his side. "Mhmm," she murmured, and then groaned as his growing hardness caught her in the perfect spot. "But Gibbs told me to get you up." She wriggled her hips pointedly.

Tony chuckled and worked his hand under her bikini bottoms to rest on her butt. "I'm not sure this is exactly what he meant."

Her mouth moved to the other side of his neck. "He did not specify."

Tony's eyes fluttered shut as she kept rocking her hips against him, and the warmth and pressure it caused made his nerve endings tingle. He turned his head and directed her mouth to his for a wanting kiss, but Ziva only indulged for a few brief seconds.

"Thank you for joining me last night," she said, her voice becoming breathier as he hips ground against him a little harder.

He rocked his hips back against her. "Would've preferred you to join me here."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she pushed her torso up off his chest to put all her weight on his hips. "Yeah," she said dreamily.

Tony watched her rise up off him, and felt the rocking of her hips immediately increase. Her actions finally dawned on him, and his mouth fell open.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" he asked accusingly.

A grin spread across Ziva's face. "Don't move," she begged. "You're in the perfect spot."

Tony's hands gripped her hips hard. "I am appalled," he told her with a frown. "And also totally turned on."

She breathed out a laugh. "Sounds like you."

His eyes fell to her chest, and he felt his body tighten all over. He was very, very close to flipping her over and breaking her stupid rule. "Ziva," he said hoarsely. "You cannot do that and then expect me to be Mr Professional for the rest of the day. Not. Fair."

Ziva sighed and came as close to pouting as she got. She was still a long way from release, and that made stilling her hips a lot easier. If he'd waited another minute, there would have been trouble. "Fine," she groaned, and rolled to the side of him. "Use my arguments against me."

"I wish I didn't have to." He stretched his neck to give her a quick kiss, and then, as she rolled away from him to her feet, he snagged one side of her bikini bottoms and tugged the knot free. He caught a flash of perfect Israeli ass before Ziva caught the ties and re-did the knot.

"I just need three minutes in the shower," she told him over her shoulder. "Gibbs wants us ready in 20."

Tony looked down at the tent he was pitching under the sheet. "That should be just about long enough."

* * *

After an unproductive morning spent running background searches on staff at the medical center, Team Gibbs gathered in the interrogation viewing room at NCIS's headquarters on base. Through the two-way mirror they could see Juliet Spencer, sitting at the battle-scarred table that was pushed up against the corner of the small room. McGee had accompanied Gibbs that morning to politely ask her to come in for an interview, and she had gone with them without asking too many questions. At the time, Gibbs had thought that had spoken to her guilt. But now, after watching her sweat alone in the small room for the last 20 minutes, he wasn't so sure. Guilty people were often calm, because they knew what was coming. Innocent people fidgeted and paced about and looked nervous while they tried to think of what the hell they'd done that had gotten them into trouble. Juliet Spencer definitely fell into the later category. Ever since Gibbs had left her there, her eyes hadn't stopped moving around the room, and her hands hadn't rested still. She'd smoothed her clothes a dozen times, fixed her hair, crossed and uncrossed her legs. The woman was extremely nervous.

Gibbs turned to his team and looked at each one of them in turn. McGee was too polite to handle this. He wouldn't be able to question her if he couldn't even look at her without blushing. Tony would work his charm, but it could end up backfiring. Juliet might hold certain details back if she thought they might portray her in a negative light. Ziva might scare the crap out of her, but that left himself as the only alternative, and he didn't think Juliet would open up about her sex life to a man old enough to be her father.

He zeroed in on Ziva. "Can you attempt the girl talk thing?"

Ziva made a face like she'd already known he was going to ask, but was holding out hope that he wouldn't. "Fine," she mumbled.

"Oh, I'm gonna need popcorn for this," Tony said, then let out an 'oof' when Ziva punched him in the guts. That he was still standing and smiling rather than doubled-over and wincing suggested that she'd pulled the hit considerably.

In the hall between the rooms, Ziva took her hair out of its high ponytail and messed it around a little. She pulled the neckline of her top down to give her more cleavage, and wriggled the waist of her pants down a smidge so that she was exposing a little skin. In a way, this interview was all about hitting on Juliet. She needed to put herself on the same level so that she appeared neither intimidating or competition, and appear to be someone that Juliet could connect with. Physical appearance would be the fastest way to do it. And the voice. She'd have to work on her voice.

From the moment she opened the door she had a sunny smile on her face, and she swung her hips as she walked over to the table. "Juliet?" she started, forcing an American twang into her voice. "Hi, I'm Ziva David. I work with agents Gibbs and McGee."

Juliet sat up straighter and shot her a wide-eyed smile. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

_So far, so good_, Ziva thought. "I'm really sorry to keep you waiting so long," she apologized, flipping her hair as she swung herself into her seat.

Juliet shook her head. "No, it's fine. I was just worried you'd forgotten about me!"

"Things're kind've crazy here today," Ziva said, rolling her eyes like she was letting Juliet in on a joke. "Nothing to do with you though, don't worry."

Juliet seemed to relax a little. "Oh, good. But, um, why did you guys want to talk to me, Agent…David, was it?"

Ziva waved her hand through the air. "Call me Ziva. You're not in trouble, but I might be about to give you some upsetting news."

Wide eyes blinked back at her. "Oh?"

Ziva leant over her elbows on the table and injected sympathy into her voice. "Yeah. Did you know Steve Woods, Noah Silverman and Shaun Hill?"

Ziva watched Juliet's reaction closely as she nodded. Her eyes stayed wide and slightly bewildered, and there didn't seem to be a shred of guilt in them. "Um, yeah. Not well, but I met them. Why?"

Ziva cocked her head to the side with condolence. "They've been found dead."

Ziva didn't think it was possible, but Juliet's eyes grew even wider. Her hand covered her mouth, and she rocked back in her seat. "Oh my God! What happened?"

"It looks like they were killed," Ziva said gently, and when Juliet's bottom lip quivered, she braced herself for tears.

"Oh my God!" Juliet repeated, and started fanning her face as if it would prevent the tears from falling. Unsurprisingly, it didn't. "_All_ of them?"

Ziva stood and reached over to the end of the table to grab the box of tissues. She put it in front of Juliet and drew one out to hand over. "Yeah, looks like. We're still trying to work out what's going on. Do you need a minute?"

Juliet very carefully dabbed at the tears under her eyes, and managed not to smudge her makeup. "No, it's okay. I'm just kinda shocked. I mean, why would anyone want to kill those boys? They're so sweet. When did it happen?"

Ziva couldn't deny she was asking all the right questions of an innocent party. "Over the last few weeks. They didn't die together."

"That's horrible," Juliet said, sniffling as she got her tears under control. "People can just be so awful, you know?"

Ziva nodded. "I know it's upsetting, but I need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?"

"Why me?" Juliet asked. "I didn't know them that well. And I didn't kill them!"

Ziva put her hand out on the table in a calming gesture. "No, of course not. We don't think that. But we talked to some people who knew them, and they said that you'd dated them. I just need to talk to you about that. You know, in case anything weird happened while you were out with them, or they said anything that might help us sort this out?"

Juliet blew her nose. "Okay," she said, slipping back into her lost little girl voice. It grated on Ziva's nerves, but she gave her an encouraging smile.

"Okay. If you need a break at all, just let me know." She pulled Petty Officer Woods' ID photo out of the folder beside her. "Let's start with Steve. Where did you meet him?"

Juliet stared at the photo. "At Rock Pool Bar. He was with some friends and I was with some friends, and we just got to talking."

"When was that?"

A tiny crease formed between her eyebrows. "Maybe three or four weeks ago? Probably three."

"Was that the first time you saw him?"

Juliet shook her head. "No. He came into the medical center where I work. He was really cute, even though he was sick. Had a great smile, you know? I'm a sucker for a good smile."

Ziva grinned, trying to appear as through she was indulging in the girl talk. "Me too."

"There's something about it, right?" Juliet said, leaning closer to Ziva as she grew more and more trusting. "Yeah, so I saw him at work, and when I saw him out at the bar a couple of days later, I thought I'd go over and say hi."

Ziva nodded along. "So what happened?"

"Well, we just talked for a while. Had a couple of drinks. He was really nice." She gave Ziva a smile that struck her as unexpectedly shy. "He really seemed to listen to me, you know? Like he was interested."

Ziva nodded, and the theory she'd started developing last night took more traction. "That can be hard to find," she said, building the camaraderie. "My boyfriend? Sometimes I feel like I can't even turn around when I'm having a conversation with him because he'll just be staring at my butt."

Juliet nodded keenly. "Right. I know the way I look, Ziva. And I like it. I'm proud of it. But sometimes I just wanna talk and not be stared at."

"So, you and Steve just talked that night?"

Juliet smiled indulgently. "Um, no. We ended up going back to his place. Like I said, he was so sweet and really cute and…we were pretty drunk. When he asked me to come home with him, I went."

"Did you sleep with him?" The medical examiner's report said Petty Officer Woods' body hadn't had foreign DNA on it, but Ziva still wanted Juliet's story.

Juliet nodded. "Yeah. But then I left. I don't like the morning after thing, you know?"

Ziva rolled her eyes in agreement, even as she considered the conflicting evidence. "It's a pain. Was that the last time you saw him?"

"Yeah," Juliet said. "He was asleep and I left."

"Asleep in his bed?"

"Yeah."

"And you went out the front door?"

Juliet frowned momentarily at what she considered a strange question, but nodded. "Yeah. I called a cab."

"Do you remember what time that was?"

Juliet made a thinking face. "Not really. Maybe about three? I didn't really look at the clock. Why?"

"We think he died soon after you left," Ziva said gently, and then held out a pre-emptive tissue. Juliet snatched it off her as tears flowed again.

"Oh my God! That's so…creepy!"

Ziva didn't address that. "What about Noah? Can you take me through your night with him?"

"Kind of the same," Juliet said. "Ran into him at a bar called Sugar's. Talked for a while, had some drinks. But I suggested that we should go back to his place. He was _really _hot. Smelled really good. And he had great hands. I have a thing for hands."

"What did you do when you got to his place?"

"Had sex. A lot of it. He was great. And then I left, called a cab. I don't know what time. A little before dawn."

"Did you meet him at the bar?"

Juliet's eyes widened again as she caught on to the pattern. "No. Oh my God! I met him at the medical center too!" She paused to gasp again. "_And_ Shaun. I saw him there a few days before we met up at the bar on Waikiki. We made a date. Oh my God! Do you think it's me? Like I'm bad luck?"

"It could be a coincidence," Ziva said. "I mean, have you been with anyone else lately who's died?"

Juliet actually thought about it for a few seconds. "I don't think so."

Ziva considered how to approach this delicately. "Have you been on a lot of dates lately?"

Juliet nodded easily. "Yes. I go out a couple of times a week, and I usually hook up with someone."

"And by hook up, do you mean just having a drink and a talk, or…?"

Juliet smiled without shame. "No. We usually have sex. I sleep around. I don't really try to hide it, because I'm not embarrassed. But other people get weird about it. I don't see the difference between me doing it and some guy who gets praised as a stud for it though, you know? It's a total double standard. I mean, I like sex. Why should I be ashamed of that just because I'm a woman? That doesn't make sense to me."

Ziva nodded agreeably, and this time she didn't have to act. She'd always held that opinion as well. "Sure. It's not illegal. How often do you have to turn guys down?"

Juliet shrugged. "Sometimes a lot. Guys hit on me all the time. It doesn't bother me, but I'm not always in the mood."

"Is there anyone who's kept bothering you to go out with him?"

Juliet twisted her lips. "Um, not really. If I say no and they keep at me, I just turn on the bitch, you know?"

Again, Ziva didn't have to pretend to be agreeable. "Right." She took a moment to think of any loose ends. "Did any of them say anything to you about enemies? Or did you run across anyone on those nights who hassled you?"

Juliet shook her head. "No."

"You didn't see anyone on the street outside their houses after you left?"

"Nope."

Ziva nodded. "Okay. There's just one more thing I want to ask you about."

Juliet nodded, now seemingly at ease with Ziva's questions. "Sure."

"Do you know a guy called Gus Werner?"

A smile jumped to Juliet's face. "Oh, sure! He's a doctor at the medical center. Real nice guy."

"Do you socialize with him?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I see him out sometimes and we always say hello, but I've never dated him or anything. He's a co-worker, you know? That's got bad idea written all over it."

Ziva kept her smile in place. "Sure."

Juliet waved her hand dismissively. "Anyway, he's too nice for me. I'd probably eat him alive."

Ziva took a small step to her conclusion. "But he's asked you out before?"

"A couple of times," she nodded. "But he was cool with me saying no. He gets why I'd prefer not to. Why? You don't think he's involved or anything, right?"

Ziva shook her head dismissively. "We just had a witness who said he saw Gus at the bar when you and Shaun Hill were there. It's probably nothing. We're just, you know, covering all our bases."

Juliet seemed to relax. "Oh, sure. I get it."

Ziva slid the photos back into her folder, then crossed her legs and rested her chin on her hand. "So, do you only date navy guys?"

Juliet grinned and mirrored Ziva's position. "Not exclusively. But, you know, I work on base and I'm surrounded by them. And I like a guy in uniform."

"And they like women in nurses uniforms," Ziva returned.

She grinned and shrugged. "Doesn't hurt."

Ziva decided that she'd drawn out enough information for the moment. "Okay. Thanks, Juliet. Can you hang on for a minute?"

Juliet nodded, and Ziva gathered the file and headed to the door. She stopped though when Juliet called her back.

"Hey, Ziva? Thanks for not treating me like a piece of crap," she said genuinely. "Women usually do. I guess they're jealous and that's their problem, but…thanks. I get tired of people calling me a slut to my face."

Ziva shook her head. "You're not a slut," she said. "And who gives a crap what anyone else thinks?"

At Juliet's grateful smile, Ziva left the room. When she rejoined the others, Tony had his arms tightly crossed over his chest and was pointedly looking away from her. He was clearly fighting an epic battle to keep the smile off his face and dozens of comments in his mouth. McGee was grinning at her, but without ridicule, and Gibbs…looked exactly the same as always. They were joined by Agent Gale, who was smiling at her in a manner that was a little more than just friendly.

"Nice job, Agent David," Gale said. "You had her eating out of your hand."

Ziva gave him a polite nod, and looked at Gibbs. "If she is involved, she is very good at hiding it."

Gibbs grunted. "She could've been playing you like you were playing her."

"Yes, but I do not think we can hold her longer or arrest her."

"Wasn't planning on it," Gibbs said, and then left the room. Gale watched him go with a frown, but the others knew it was business as usual.

"Abby called," Tony piped up, daring to glance at her and managing to hold his grin. "She got a partial print on one of the glasses at Shaun Hill's apartment."

"Match anyone?"

Tony shook his head. "No. But Gibbs asked her to run it against the medical center staff."

Ziva was about to name check Gus Werner when Gale suddenly looked over at Tony and cut in.

"Hey, is that the same scientist Abby who was working up there when Burley was around?"

Tony fixed a smile on his face and prepared for another round of Burley love. "Yes. She's been there about 12 years."

Gale smiled like he'd just worked something out. "And you're the guy who replaced Burley?"

Tony's gut started churning with unidentified panic. "Yeah," he said at length.

Gale nodded and pointed at him. "Right. So, are you guys still together? Because you were dating for a while, weren't you?"

All the air felt like it was sucked out of the room by the force of Ziva and McGee's gasps. They whipped around to face him, while Tony too slowly recovered from the shock and plastered on a smile.

"What?" he chuckled, like the idea was absolutely preposterous. "No."

Gale nodded again, convinced he was right. "Yeah! Burley said that this new guy came in and you started dating pretty quickly."

Tony shook his head firmly and didn't dare look at Ziva or McGee. "Nope, you've got me confused with someone else. A couple of guys started at the same time as me. It was probably one of them. Because me and Abby…that never happened. No." He glanced at the interrogation room just in time to see Gibbs gesturing for one of them to join him. "Oh! Gibbs needs a hand. I'll just go…be handy." He practically ran from the room.

Gale scratched his chin, realizing he'd just made an enormous faux pas. "Uh, I'm gonna go check in with my team. Good luck with the prints."

Once he was gone, Ziva regained feeling below the neck and turned to McGee. He looked like he'd been punched in the face. By a ghost.

"Did you know anything about that?" she asked, although the answer was utterly clear.

McGee closed his mouth and shook his head. "You?"

"No," she said, and then promptly burst out laughing.

McGee managed to scrounge up even more disbelief and aimed it at her. "You think it's funny?"

Ziva wiped tears from her cheeks. "I think it's hilarious! Tony and Abby? That's like…" She tried to think of a pairing even more ridiculous. "Gibbs and Jimmy!"

McGee crossed his arms over his chest, and didn't join in the laughter. "I wonder how that happened." He didn't sound at all pleased, and Ziva tried to compose herself out of respect for his feelings.

"Tim, I wouldn't think anything of it," she said, touching his arm kindly. "It was ten years ago."

The touch alerted McGee to how much he was giving away, and so he shrugged and tried to pass it off as no big deal. "Yeah, sure," he said as he felt his cheeks color. "And they're more like brother and sister now."

Ziva nodded. "Definitely. Now, let's think of some things we want that we can blackmail them for."

**

* * *

People, don't freak out about the Tony/Abby thing. When I was doing the NCIS Guidebook (plug!) two scenes interested me. One where Abby tells Tony that he's like a piercing ("it takes a while for the throbbing to stop and the skin to grow back"), and one where she says that men and women can only be friends after they've had sex. I don't believe for a second that there's anything between them now aside from deep sibling love and adoration, but those scenes just made me wonder about the past…**

**Don't send me hate mail.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who's continuing to both follow and review this one. And thanks also for not burning me alive for the bombshell at the end of the last chapter. **

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

"Sorry, Gibbs," Abby was saying over the phone that night. "I'll go over the sheets inch by inch and get you some DNA, but I just can't take this fingerprint to court."

Gibbs leant back against the kitchen counter and sighed to himself with irritation. Not at Abby—he trusted her opinion and her work, and knew that if she was confident with the two-point match to Gus Werner she'd found, she'd be telling him to bust down his door. But the case was becoming more frustrating than he'd been expecting, and everything was taking longer than he would have liked. He needed to find a motive.

"It's okay, Abs," he told her. "Go over the sheets, and I'll try to find something more for you to work with."

"I'll get them processed by lunchtime," she told him. "Which I guess will be breakfast for you."

Gibbs checked his watch, and did the math. "What is it, about 0200 there?"

"Yeah. And raining. It hasn't stopped since you left."

Knowing Abby's flair for the dramatic, Gibbs had trouble deciding whether she was speaking literally or figuratively. "Go home, Abby. Get some sleep."

There was a long silence over the line. "Tony, has this been you doing your Gibbs impersonation the whole time?"

Gibbs allowed a small smile. "No. But even if it were, he'd cover for you while you went home and had a nap. Go get some rest and start fresh in the morning."

"Okay," she said at length, still not convinced that she was really being dismissed. "Sleep tight."

"You too."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"I won't."

"No, seriously," Abby said. "You can never be too careful in a bed that lots of people use and that probably isn't cleaned too often. And those suckers really itch, Gibbs. I mean, generally speaking, Hawaii's too tropical for them, but there's still the possibility that—"

"Okay, I'll be careful," he cut in. "Night, Abs."

He hung up and joined the others in the living room. Tony and Ziva shared the couch, and McGee was on one of the armchairs. All three were pitched forward and looking at files spread over the coffee table, but looked up when he came in.

He shook his head at them. "Only a two-point match to Werner. We need more. She's going to look at the sheets in the morning." His three agents seemed to deflate a little, but Gibbs kept them moving. "Motive. Go."

"Juliet or Werner?" McGee asked.

"Either. Both. Give me something."

"No sign of robbery," Tony began.

"Juliet did not have a history with any of them," Ziva continued.

"And she doesn't have a history of violence or stalking," McGee shot in.

"None of the victims worked on anything remotely interesting that she could have been trying to gather or steal information on."

"As far as we can tell, Werner did not know any of the victims either."

"And his record is clean as well."

Gibbs looked between the three of them. "You all just gave me the opposite of motive," he pointed out.

They all sat back in their chairs and considered the situation. Ziva had been developing a theory since she'd watched Juliet and her date last night. It was still coming together, but when Tony and McGee stayed silent, she decided to forge ahead.

"I have a thought," she said.

Tony's head lolled against the back of the couch as he looked over at her, and he reminded himself not to stroke her bare thigh while they had company. "Lay it on us."

"They never had sex."

McGee blinked. "Who?"

"Any of them. Juliet might say they did, but I trust the physical evidence over her word. And we didn't find condoms at any of the scenes. Plus, with that much alcohol in their systems, there's no way those guys would have been able to perform." She glanced at Tony, just as she glanced at McGee and Gibbs, but Tony immediately took umbrage.

"Why do you look at _me_ when you say that?" He tried to remember ever getting so drunk that he hadn't been able to have sex with her, but nothing immediately came to mind. But was that because he was so drunk he couldn't remember? No, surely if that'd happened, she would've done something unspeakable to him by now. A horny Ziva was not someone you could disappoint and get away with it.

"I think maybe that was her intention," Ziva went on, looking at him strangely. "Everything about Juliet Spencer hints at low self esteem."

"What?" McGee cut in, incredulous.

Ziva sighed at his unspoken assumption. "The enormous implants, the way she frequently changes her appearance, all the make up, the skimpy clothes when she's out, the fake tan, the way she freely speaks about her hook ups, and has two or three of them a week. The breathy little voice. She's trying too hard for attention."

She paused to gauge how they were taking this. Gibbs was typically impassive (which she took as encouragement to continue), Tony was blatantly curious, and McGee was now weighing it up. "I think she hooks up with these men because she measures her self worth by the opinions others have of her. More than most people do. And she gives particular weight to how men see her. She thinks if they're lusting after her, that means she's important."

Beside her, Tony felt his cheeks color. Gee, now where had he heard that before? Certainly never from Ziva, although he didn't doubt she'd had that opinion of him at some point in the past. But therapists and ex-girlfriends had certainly never been shy about pointing it out. He took a swig of the beer he'd been cradling so he could blame the flush on the alcohol if he needed, and hoped the action covered his sudden discomfort.

"But maybe she can't make herself go through with the sex," Ziva continued. "Maybe there is a bit of self respect in there that can't let her go through with it. So she gets them so drunk that they can't remember what they did. She gets her hit of self worth from having the men lust after her, and they think they had sex with a hot woman. They both win."

Gibbs nodded along as he worked that through. "Could be right," he allowed. "But that doesn't add up to murder."

Ziva shifted to sit with her legs crossed, yoga style. "Not by Juliet. But Gus Werner has feelings for her. Perhaps he sees something in her that she doesn't see in herself."

"But he doesn't like her sleeping around," McGee shot in, getting on board with where she was going. "Killing the men she hooks up with is his way of protecting her virtue. They can't tell anyone they slept with her if they're dead."

Gibbs looked to Tony for his take, but found his senior agent staring at Ziva's water bottle with a vague frown. "DiNozzo? Thoughts?"

Tony didn't shift his gaze. "I don't get women."

Three sets of eyes looked around at each other in amusement, irritation and exasperation.

"I don't get how they can be so beautiful, and not know it. Why they bother with the hair and the makeup and the push up bras and—"

"You can't expect us to take this seriously coming from you," McGee cut in. "You know that, right?" It was a cutting remark, one he wouldn't normally make. But he was still reeling from Gale's bombshell that afternoon, and the childlike 'you hurt me, I'll hurt you' feeling was hard to ignore.

He was expecting a rise, but McGee still wasn't prepared for the severity of the scowl Tony suddenly shot at him. "Yeah, I'm a slut. We know." He returned his eyes to the coffee table and shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

McGee flushed under the glare that Ziva shot him, but it was Gibbs who spoke up. "I'd like to hear where you were going."

"Me too," Ziva added.

But Tony shook his head. "No, it doesn't have anything to do with the case. Just ramblings. I think we should get some eyes on Werner the next time Juliet Spencer heads out for a date. See if he turns up again, and if he tries to bust the date up. If he does, it certainly gives us a line of questioning to pursue with him."

Gibbs nodded, and then got up and left without another word. The three of them watched him go, and remained silent until they heard his bedroom door close.

Tony looked over to Ziva. "I think that means we're dismissed for the evening."

* * *

Tony was brushing his teeth before bed when Ziva joined him in the bathroom. She reached around him for her cleanser as he rinsed, and then caught his wrist as he took a step towards the door.

"All yours," Tony said, and kissed her forehead, hoping she'd let him go. Instead, she tightened her grip.

"What were you going to say?"

Tony shook his head. "It really doesn't matter."

Ziva cocked her head to the side and softened her gaze. "Tony."

He sighed heavily as he caved in. He knew Ziva well enough to know that she wouldn't let it go until he told her, even if he held out for a year. He took a seat on the side of the tub, and Ziva gave his hand a quick squeeze before she turned on the faucet and filled the sink with warm water.

"I was just going to say that I don't understand why women put themselves through all that stuff." He met her eyes cautiously in the mirror, and she nodded in encouragement before leaning over the sink and splashing water on her face. "I mean, I do. Of course I do. I do the same thing. But…men are so _easy_. Women really don't need to go through all that crap to get our attention."

Ziva squeezed some cleanser onto her hand and rubbed it between her palms. "You are bothered by false advertising?"

He chuckled. "No, it's…I don't know any guy who, if he got a woman home and found she was wearing a push up bra, would get disappointed and kick her out. You know?"

"Good to know," she said, and started working the cleanser over her face.

Tony reached for one of her hair bands sitting on the vanity, and started flexing it between his fingers. He wasn't sure he was making sense, so he changed track. "I just mean that none of that crap matters when you really like someone, you know? Seeing the woman you love as she really is, as what she might think is less than perfect, is actually a massive turn on."

They held gazes in the mirror for a silent moment. Ziva was surprised that he was being so frank about it, and the irony that they were discussing it while she was looking in the mirror and cleansing, toning and moisturizing wasn't lost on her. Half of her wanted to point it out and make a joke of it, effectively ending the conversation. The other half of her was far too curious about the reformed serial dater's thoughts on the topic.

"Why?" she asked, pushing the word through a slightly tight throat and hoping she wasn't setting herself up for a bout of unwanted insecurity.

Tony stared at the hair band as he ordered his thoughts. "Because...it means that she's relaxed around you. She trusts you. She's confident enough to share a side of herself with you that she wouldn't share with too many other people. All of that's sexy."

Ziva stared at him quietly for a moment, unable to help comparing herself to his statement. Mostly, she thought she was pretty true to herself. She didn't dress up for work like some of the other female agents did. She mostly dressed for practicality. And when she was slogging though a crime scene, the state of her hair and whether her foundation was holding up its 12-hour promise wasn't really on top of her mind. But it would be a flat out lie to say that she never worried about her appearance or employed the tricks he'd been talking about. And it would be a bigger lie to say that she had never had him in mind when she'd dressed herself up or ironed her hair. On the other hand, she hardly obsessed about lipstick shades or whether she could get away with wearing blue with her skin tone.

She bent over the sink to splash water off her face and remove the cleanser, and then reached for the bottle of toner and a cotton ball. "You think it is a form of intimacy?" she tried.

Tony considered that. It wasn't what sprang to his mind when he thought of the traditional implications of the word, but in a weird way, she was right. "I guess." He glanced at her in the mirror as she tossed the cotton ball in the bin and reached for her moisturizer. Right now, she was bare faced. Scrubbed clean of all make up and relying only on what God gave her for her beauty. And, Jesus, she was stunning. His stomach did a little flip and the corner of his mouth lifted. Damn he was lucky.

When he'd been quiet for more than a few seconds, Ziva looked over at him and raised her eyebrow. She sensed he had more to say on the topic, and she was still curious.

Tony went for the obvious. "Okay, hypothetically speaking, I might've known a woman once who, when we were at her place after we finished work really late at night, would let me sit on the edge of the tub as we talked and watch her take her make up off. And then do this cleansing, moisturizing routine thing."

He smiled at her affectionately and she looked down at the products in front of her with a self-conscious wince, and then smile of her own. 'Hypothetically speaking' was simply Tony's attempt to put some distance into the conversation to allow for more honesty.

Tony went on. "I _loved _it. I loved that she felt she could be her real self around me when I knew she probably wouldn't let many other people see her like that. Even though she was so beautiful without it." He paused and Ziva met his eyes again. "And after all that—seeing her without her make up, hair pretty messy, in sweat pants, sometimes still smelling a little bit like crime scene—I still wanted to get her into bed every time I saw her, and kiss her all over."

She held his gaze, determined not to turn away this time despite the flush running through her body. He was being extremely honest at this moment and he deserved for it to be acknowledged. She let go of the pleased smile she held inside. "She was a very lucky girl. I bet she wanted to get you into bed every time she saw you, too."

He smiled, and then reeled it in to lightly joke, "There were probably one or two occasions—make that years—when she was too annoyed at me for that."

"Maybe a little."

After all the honesty, it was only natural for Tony to now turn to levity. "I'm not saying that she wasn't smoking hot when she dressed up, though. Like, if I saw her running around in this little black mini dress she has with the stilettos and her hair done and that…smoky eye thing she sometimes does, maybe while shooting at someone…" His eyes glazed over as he built the fantasy in his head, but when they drifted to her bare legs, he snapped back to attention. "I'm not saying that wouldn't be sexy as hell as well."

Ziva smirked, and watched his eyes darken as they traveled up her legs.

"Man, she's got amazing legs," he told her, as Ziva pushed off the vanity and crossed the room to close and lock the door. "And her butt?" he went on as she braced her hands on his shoulders and straddled his legs to sit on his knees. "Oh my God, Ziva. This woman has the greatest ass you've ever—"

Ziva cut him off when she wrapped her arms around his neck and leant in to kiss him. She could feel him smiling into it, deservedly very pleased with himself, and pushed her chest against him as she deepened the kiss. She felt one of his hands creep up under her top to rest on the skin of her back, and the other tunneled into her hair. She could feel the spark right there, ready to ignite if she would only let it. But she was still acutely aware that while this case was still open, they were technically on the clock. Sharing some intimacy after a conversation like that was to be expected, but now they had to draw the line before it got out of control. And Ziva knew from first hand experience that when she was with Tony, she often got out of control.

She broke the kiss right before she knew he'd take things up a notch, but hovered just a few inches in front of his face. "I don't smell like crime scene now, right?" she checked.

Tony stared at her darkly for a second as his brain tried to switch from 'sex' to 'talk'. "No, you smell like," he paused to smell her freshly moisturized cheek, causing Ziva to giggle, "green tea and cucumber."

Ziva gave him another quick kiss, and then looked at him with serious eyes to address McGee's comment that had pissed them both off. "I don't think you're a slut."

The corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I don't quite believe you," he told her honestly.

Ziva cocked her head to the side, partially agreeing with his meaning. "You used to be," she allowed. "But that doesn't seem to be you anymore."

"Well, I'm kind of focused on one woman now," he replied, shrugging as if it was obvious, and surprising himself by how easy it was to say.

Ziva studied him carefully. "Are you sure about that?"

Tony couldn't help the look of hurt that flashed across his face. Yes, he had slept around a lot. He'd never try to argue the point. But did she really think he was still doing that? Because of what that idiot Gale had said today?

"If this is about Abby—" he started, but cut himself off when she dropped her head and started laughing. "What?"

"It is definitely not about that," she chuckled.

He took a hopeful stab in the dark. "You're not upset about that?"

She frowned at him, not understanding why he'd think she would be. "Why would I be? It was ten years ago, not last week."

Tony's shoulders hunched in as he let out a huge sigh of relief. "I'm so glad you're okay with it."

Ziva shrugged. "I don't see the point in getting upset about something you did before I met you. But out of curiosity, how long did you date each other?"

Tony shook his head. "We didn't, really. We just…you know."

"Had sex."

"Yeah. But only twice. And it was very clear that's all it was." Ziva nodded like she got it, but given her comment from a moment ago, he had to make sure. "You don't think that I'm staying friends with her because I want to end up with her or anything, right?"

Ziva frowned deeply. "What? No. Of course not."

"Well you just asked me if I'm sure you're the one I'm focused on."

"Oh." She swallowed as she became nervous again, but decided to forge ahead. "No, I just wanted you to think about it."

"About whether I'm seeing anyone else right now?"

She shook her head. "No, about whether I'm her. The woman you want to focus on exclusively."

Ziva may have been nervous about the possibility of opening a can of worms, but it seemed as though Tony had already tackled the subject independently. "Oh. Yeah, of course."

Ziva blinked at his swift and decisive reply, and Tony smiled at his growing ability to put that look on her face.

"I didn't even stutter or pass out," he pointed out, as if it added more weight to his decision. She gave him the vaguely amused smile he was looking for, and then he turned on the honesty again. "Look, you are nothing like who I was looking for. But you're definitely everything I want. Without question."

Her gaze softened, and Tony tucked her hair behind her ear in an affectionate gesture, letting his fingers trail across her jaw before he met her eyes again. "I love you," he told her for only the second time, even if his heart was pounding like it was the first. "Just because you're not completely comfortable hearing it yet, it doesn't mean it's not true. You don't need to second guess me."

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs as Ziva took a shallow breath, and her eyes took on that melty look that made his heart stutter. He knew she was hearing him, believing him, and just like when he'd told her in Paris, knowing that she _got it_ filled him with a strange sense of relief and calm. This—_them_—was going to work. He felt it in his bones.

Ziva took a deep breath. "I—"

It was as far as she got before Tony put his thumb over her lips, stopping her from saying what he knew was coming. "Not here," he told her confused frown. "I'm probably going to regret stopping you, but I don't want to do it in a bathroom with Gibbs and McGee outside, and when I know I won't be lying next to you tonight."

Ziva understood what he was saying, but pouted against his thumb. He smiled.

"Besides which, I will probably let go of some manly tears when you actually say it, and if Gibbs sees that, his head will explode."

Ziva chuckled and buried her face in his neck, needing to be closer. She truly did adore him. "Manly tears, hmm?"

"_Very_ manly," Tony reiterated. "I won't forget, though. So don't think you're off the hook."

Ziva tightened her arms around his shoulders. "I don't mind being on the hook for you."

**

* * *

**

**Aw, mushiness!**

**I hope this is all making sense. Especially the case part. It makes sense to me because I've got it all planed in my head, but I hope I'm not assuming things are obvious when they're not. Yes, yes, the case isn't actually the star of this story, but it'd be good if it were at least vaguely coherent to people.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: You guys are freaking awesome. Glad you were all feeling appropriately mushy at the end of the last chapter. Thanks for continuing to read and review and enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Team Gibbs didn't have to wait too long to put their plan to follow Gus Werner into action.

The following afternoon, after Abby had called to say that she found a fiber on Noah Silverman's sheets that came from the same kind of uniform that Gus Werner wore, Ziva had headed to the medical center on her own. Juliet had been sitting at reception when she came in, and while Ziva made an appointment to see a medic for a completely imagined illness, they talked about their plans for the night and the weekend. As Ziva expected, Juliet was planning on going out that night. She even asked Ziva if she wanted to join her, but Ziva declined, saying she had to go to work.

After a ten-minute consultation with a medic about non-existent headaches and nausea (that ended in a pregnancy test—why did doctors _always_ insist on a pregnancy test whenever you said the word nausea?) Ziva returned to the house with information on Juliet's plans for the evening.

That night they followed Werner from his house, the four of them crammed into the sedan and trying to look inconspicuous. The 4x4 would have fit the street scene better, but four adults sitting in an open-top car for a couple of hours would easily draw unwanted attention. They followed Werner from his house to the grocery store, and then to the beach, where he'd been walking the same stretch of the promenade for the last ten minutes. His head kept swiveling as though he was looking out for someone, although the team doubted that he expected to see Juliet here. For one, it was only 1930, and Juliet didn't seem to appear in bars until at least 2100. And for two, all the bars along this stretch of beach were targeted at tourists. Juliet seemed to prefer places that catered to the locals.

"Maybe he's meeting the blonde again," McGee suggested, as Werner turned and started another lap of the promenade.

"Using a blonde as a cover," Tony mused. "We've all been there."

"A cover for what?" Ziva asked, gazing out the window at the waves crashing behind Werner. She'd love to get a surf in before they left. It'd been so long since she'd—

"Anything you're not supposed to be doing," Tony replied, interrupting her thoughts.

It took Ziva a moment to remember that they'd been having a conversation. She didn't try to work out what he meant. "Do you think you could hire a surfboard down there somewhere?"

McGee glanced at her reflection in the side mirror. "You can surf?"

"She's a ninja, probie. She can do anything."

McGee frowned, and wondered if that was another movie reference he had no hope of understanding. "Ninjas don't traditionally surf, do they?"

"Israeli-American ones do. Everyone knows that."

McGee twisted in the passenger seat to look back at Tony. "_Nobody_ knows that."

Tony shrugged and followed Ziva's gaze out the window. "It's common knowledge where I come from."

"Long Island?" McGee said, lifting a disbelieving eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure it's one of those things my mom used to say. That, and _don't count your chickens before they're hatched_. Although we weren't farmers, so I don't know how she'd know not to do that."

Ziva sighed. "Can I rent a surfboard or not?"

"Definitely," Tony said. "But you generally need adult supervision, so I'll have to come with you."

"You're the adult?" Ziva shot at him, just as McGee twisted all the way around in his seat.

"You can surf?" he asked, disbelief dripping off every word. "No, you can't."

"I have many hidden talents," Tony said. After a beat, he added, "Okay, I actually only have two, and now you know one of them."

"What's the other one?" McGee asked, and then frowned and pulled back when he got twin looks of exasperation from Tony and Ziva.

"Really, Tim?" Tony asked. "Do you really want me to go into it? I don't think you do."

"I certainly don't," Gibbs piped up, the first words he'd spoken since leaving Werner's house. "And if you do go into it, I'll make sure you won't be able to do it again for a month."

McGee turned to face front again, frowning deeper at the weirdness. Why was he getting the feeling lately that everyone was in on what was going on in the team aside from him?

With Dad spoiling the fun again, Tony turned back to the case. "Okay, Ziva, I know I'm going to regret asking this, but how easy is it to drown a person while they're sitting up in bed?"

Ziva shifted her focus from the surf and eagerly shared her knowledge. "Very, if they are as incapacitated by drugs or alcohol as our victims were. All our killer would have had to do was sit them up, and then take a bottle of water and something like a tongue depressor. You hold their tongue down and pour water down their throat until they have to take a breath, and draw the water into their lungs. It would be over very quickly. And without the victim struggling, it is quite a clean and efficient way of killing someone."

Tony stared at her for a few silent moments, and added that to the list of things to worry about when Ziva was pissed at him. "Okay, then."

"Good way to kill if you're a doctor," Gibbs said. "You could give someone drugs to overdose, but that could be easily traced back to you."

"This is quite an intimate way to kill," Ziva said. "You would be right up close to the person's face, looking them in the eye."

"Wanting them to know you," McGee said.

"Or wanting to see the life drain out of their eyes."

"Revenge," Tony said. "But for what?"

No one seemed to know. A few minutes passed in silence, and then Werner seemed to catch sight of someone approaching from the east. Four sets of eyes scanned the crowd for possible contacts, and then settled on a guy about Werner's age in jeans an a blue Hawaiian shirt. Werner met him with a handshake and a bro hug, and McGee aimed his camera with the telephoto lens and took half a dozen shots. He started feeding them into the facial recognition software on the laptop.

"Not a date," Tony said. "But still a blonde."

"ID, McGee," Gibbs prompted, though it had only been seconds since the photos were taken.

"Working on it."

They watched as Werner and the contact stood in the same place for a minute while they talked, and then slowly wandered to the railing separating the promenade from the beach. Werner took out his cell phone and hit a few keys before passing it to his companion.

"That's James Carlton," McGee said, reading his ID off the screen. "He's also a medic on base. Has been stationed there since about a month before Werner arrived."

They watched as Carlton handed back the phone and pointed at Werner, and then Werner started gesturing like he was upset.

"Be good if we could hear what they were arguing about," McGee said.

"Tony," Gibbs started, but it was as far as he had to go before Tony _and_ Ziva popped open their doors and stepped out of the car. Gibbs smirked to himself and tipped back some coffee, confident that they'd handle it.

"Uh, where are they going?"

Gibbs glanced at the younger agent. "To go listen to what they're arguing about."

Ziva walked around the front of the car and joined Tony by the left fender. They reached for each other's hands at the same time, and the two of them dashed across the road at a break in the traffic. When they reached the promenade they started a slow—but not too slow—stroll towards the pair. Nothing to see here, just a tourist couple enjoying a beach walk on a warm evening and enjoying the view.

"Did I ever tell you that this is one of my nightmares?" Tony asked once they'd made it to the promenade.

Ziva scanned their surroundings. Gentle waves were crashing on a white sand beach, the sky was clear and just turning turquoise as the sun set behind them, palm trees were swaying in the slight breeze and the weather was perfectly warm. Nightmare wasn't a word that jumped to mind. "What?"

"Being on a date with you with Gibbs watching our every move."

"This isn't a date," she pointed out, even as she squeezed his hand.

Tony shifted to sling a lazy arm around her shoulders, and kissed her temple. "Yeah, but it should be. We're in Hawaii. That's got date-type stuff written all over it."

Ziva tilted her face up to smile at him. "Maybe you'll get a goodnight kiss."

Deciding not to wait that long, Tony leant in to peck her lips softly. "I'm after more than that, sweetcheeks. And don't try to pretend after your lap dance yesterday that you're not after it too."

Ziva broke into a full smile before looking over to Werner and Carlton, now just 15 feet away. "I already told you that I am annoyed at myself for that rule I made."

Tony put his mouth against her ear. "We're breaking rules all over the place lately," he pointed out.

Ziva shrugged and steered them over to a souvenir stall closer to Werner. She wasn't sure whether she was joking or not when she replied, "Well, if you can clear the house for an hour or two, we might break some more."

Tony picked up a ukulele and strummed a few random chords as he looked her up and down with interest. "What are my chances like of getting you into a coconut shell bra and a grass skirt?"

"Not good."

He made a face to himself, expecting no less, and put the ukulele down. He followed her over to the railing about eight feet from Werner and Carlton, and then pressed himself against her back as they looked out at the beach and eavesdropped on Werner's conversation.

"You know I won't," Werner was saying, his tone decidedly annoyed.

"No, I don't know," Carlton argued. "You've been talking about this forever, man. I thought you were past it."

"I am," Werner said, before revising. "I was."

"So what the hell changed? Talk to me."

"Talk to him," Tony whispered into Ziva's hair, before kissing her head.

Werner seemed to hesitate. "Something happened at work. We…had a moment."

"A moment?" Carlton repeated. "What the hell does that mean?"

"We had a talk over lunch one day. She told me she felt like settling down with someone proper and stable. And she gave me a look. I know she did. She was talking about me."

"Did she _say_ she was talking about you?" Carlton asked.

"No, but it's what she meant," Werner insisted.

Ziva turned in Tony's arms to face him, and slid her arms around his waist. "Oh, boy," she whispered to him.

"Mhmm," he grunted back, and then took her face between his hands and leant in to give her a long, slow kiss. It was indulgent, he knew it, but they had a cover to sell, and who the hell wouldn't give her a kiss like that if they had the opportunity? Ziva moaned into his mouth and pressed herself a little more into him, but he sincerely doubted that she was losing herself in this. The woman was an undercover pro. She could be enjoying kissing him, listening to every word of Werner and Carlton's conversation, and calculating how much time she'd need to pounce on Werner and bring him down if he pulled out a gun and started shooting people.

Ziva pulled back with dreamy eyes that spoke to her desire to break than damn rule she'd made. She moved back in to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and then rested her cheek on his collarbone, facing Werner but not looking directly at him. Tony's hand traveled up and down her spine, and he rested his chin against her head as he stared out at the waves. He focused his hearing back on the conversation.

"But isn't she still going out every other night?" Carlton was asking.

"It's just a habit! If I helped her, she'd be able to break it. If I gave her a reason to be at home—"

"Gus, she doesn't want to be at home," Carlton said, trying to make his friend see sense. "She's perfectly happy with her life."

Tony shifted to brush Ziva's hair off her face and drop a few kisses across her forehead.

"She's not!" Werner argued, sounding more agitated. "She just wants everyone to think that. She wants to settle down, but she doesn't know how. And the longer she keeps it up, the more trouble she's going to get in. If she lets these guys who whore around keep using her, she's going to end up in a bad place. I can't let that happen."

Ziva slid her hand up under the hem of Tony's t-shirt to stroke the skin of his lower back, and tilted her face up to receive another kiss.

"Gus, you need to step back. You need to try to look at this objectively."

The kiss broke, but Tony dropped his face to nuzzle her neck.

"I know I'm right. She just needs help."

Carlton sighed. "Let's just go have a bite and talk about this, okay? Come on, I'm buying."

They let Werner and Carlton wander away without tailing them, not wanting to make it too obvious that they'd only been there to eavesdrop. Gibbs and McGee would keep their targets in sight, and would be able to take after them quickly if they needed to.

Tony ran his hands up Ziva's sides. "An hour or two, huh?" he said, recalling their conversation from earlier, before kissing the spot on her neck that made her weak.

Ziva's hand gripped his hair to hold him in position as she gasped softly into his ear. "Maybe," she moaned.

It was better than a 'no'. He gave her neck a gentle nip before pulling back, and Ziva slowly pushed herself off the rail. Hand in hand, they started slowly making their way back to the car.

They'd made it to the road before Ziva's hormones were back under control, and she felt the need to point out the disappointing obvious. "You know we will just spend the rest of the night in the car watching Werner, yes?"

Tony gave up looking for a break in traffic for a moment, and looked down at her. "You've never had sex in a car?"

"Not while my boss was in the front seat," she replied. "I don't know what kind of jobs _you've_ had to do in the past."

He chuckled "Yeah, usually my pimp was outside." He spotted a break between a battered old Honda and a van, and dragged Ziva through it. "Want to climb out your window after lights out tonight and meet me up the street?"

"Not particularly."

He headed around to the other side of the car and they both opened their doors.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" has asked as they slid into the back seat.

Ziva ignored him, and instead addressed Gibbs who, although he wasn't looking at them, was clearly waiting for an update. "They did not mention Juliet by name, but it was clear they were speaking about her."

"He's crazy pants for her," Tony declared.

Gibbs' impassive face told Ziva that he understood that about as well as she did. "I think Tony means that Werner is displaying an unhealthy level of infatuation."

"Cra-zy," Tony sang. "He thinks she told him that she wants to settle down with him, and now he's upset that she's still dating."

"He thinks she needs help," Ziva added. "And he wants to be there for her."

"Yeah, but his friend's being level-headed about it," Tony continued, and looked to Ziva.

"It sounds like he has been trying to help Werner get over Juliet for a while," she said. "And there may have been progress with that at some point. But now he is regressing." She threw it back to Tony.

"He's very unhappy about what he sees as men using her."

"He thinks she will get herself in trouble, and he is her white kite."

"Knight," Tony corrected.

"Right."

Gibbs sensed the break in the tag-team debrief. "Where are they going now?"

"Dinner," Tony said. "I think Carlton's going to try to talk him down."

Gibbs nodded as he sorted through all the information, and Tony and Ziva waited for further instruction. Tony's eyes fell on McGee, who was looking straight ahead with an expression Tony couldn't quite read. It was either _I am intensely uncomfortable after watching that_, or _I will gleefully bring up this make out session every time you make fun of me in front of Gibbs and bring you down_. For the moment he was keeping his mouth shut, but Tony couldn't wait until he tried it and it fell apart spectacularly.

"Good job," Gibbs finally said, bringing the attention back to him. "I want you two on Juliet. We'll stay on Werner."

Gibbs and McGee both missed Tony's smirk. Ziva did not.

"Got it, boss," he said, and he and Ziva got out of the car again.

They crossed to the other side of the street again, this time without holding hands. The tourist couple they'd just been playing may have been hand-holders, but real world Tony and Ziva definitely were not. As they started searching for a cab that would take them back to base, Tony looked down at her.

"We're going to need something with a little more cover than a 4x4," he said. "Can you give your not-so-secret admirer a call and ask for another loaner?"

Ziva rolled her eyes but pulled out her phone to dial Agent Gale. "Let me guess. A red Ferrari?"

Tony wondered if he was really that transparent, and then decided that in some situations, he probably was. "Do you think he could really get that?"

Ziva's response was an incredulous, silent shake of her head. Tony may have grown up a lot in the years that she'd known him, but Ziva didn't doubt that there'd be a Magnum loving ten-year-old inside him until his dying day.

And that was just fine with her.

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**This chapter and the next one were supposed to be a single chapter, but my word counts are getting out of control. Apologies if it feels like an abrupt end to this one.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Once again, I'm terrible at responding to reviews. But they continue to be a great source of joy, so thanks to all those who have taken the time to write. It's my end of winter resolution to get better at replying.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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An hour later, Tony and Ziva were sitting in a dark blue sedan outside the bar they'd watched Juliet strut into ten minutes before. After the brief 20 seconds of 'excitement' that had brought, and an eight-second call between Gibbs and Tony to find out that Werner was still at dinner, they'd settled into the standard stakeout chore of sitting back and watching a whole lot of nothing take place.

Once upon a time, Tony had enjoyed stakeouts. For a self-confessed voyeur like him, stakeouts were akin to being a Government-sanctioned Peeping Tom. It wasn't just the chance to look into other people's most private moments that Tony used to like, but the opportunity it allowed him to analyze and profile a person. To match up their private actions with their public manner. And Tony had always been an eager student of human behavior.

But now, after 15 years in law enforcement and countless hours spent watching people from afar, Tony was sick of them. He was sick of the takeout diet and the musty air, and he was usually stuck in a camped space made that his back and his knee hurt. Added to that, Tony no longer possessed the patience and level of concentration required for focusing on one point for an extended period of time. The only thing that made this one bearable was the woman in the passenger seat who Tony was now allowed to blatantly hit on.

"Still feeling restless?" he asked, looking over to Ziva and waggling his eyebrows.

Ziva didn't take her eyes off the door of the bar as she replied. "Have we had sex recently?"

It was a rhetorical question, but he answered her anyway. "I would hope you'd have noticed if we had."

The corner of Ziva's mouth turned up, but then she sighed with frustration. "We need to not go on business trips anymore."

Tony gave her a sidelong glance. "Yeah, they always suck, huh?"

Ziva nodded, still staring out the window and not catching on to the fact that he was baiting her. "Usually. I can't remember the last one I went on that held any element of fun."

Tony silently stared at the side of her face as he waited for her to catch on. After a full five seconds, he turned to look out the driver's window and tried not to laugh. It took another five seconds before Ziva realized her major faux pas and whipped around with eyes full of apology.

"I mean, _aside_ from Paris," she stressed. "Obviously that was—"

Tony held up his hand, stopping her backpedaling and playing up his hurt. "Don't."

Even though his smirk told her that he wasn't actually upset, Ziva still winced. Paris really had been the catalyst for what they had now, and overlooking it was really bad form. "I'm sorry," she told him.

Tony shook his head. He had hand over her right now. Who knew how long it'd be until he had that again? He knew she hadn't meant anything by it, and he honestly wasn't offended, but he was going to milk this for a little longer. "Yeah, you're gonna wear this one for a little while, _honey_," he said, using a pet name that he would never legitimately use in a million years.

Ziva bit her lip over her laugh, and put her hand on his thigh. "No, Tony, I didn't mean that. I was thinking about Mossad, not NCIS," she tried to explain.

Tony rolled his eyes and glanced at her. "Because you've done so many business trips for Mossad lately," he said sarcastically. "Especially since you _quit_ a year ago. I can see how that would be on top of your mind."

Ziva had screwed up, and she knew it. There was no talking her way out of this. He had her. No point in arguing more. "I'm sorry."

Tony was still smirking as he shook his head in mock disbelief. "I am so offended," he lied.

"I will make it up to you."

Tony smiled with the power. He was going to enjoy this. "Well, I'll sure look forward to that, Ziva."

She slid her hand a little higher, but it was still inside the safety zone. "For the record, it was amazing sex."

Tony nodded easily. "I know. It landed me in physio."

"I had a bruise in the shape of your hand on my hip for four days."

He smiled indulgently, but only because he knew he hadn't actually hurt her. She'd left marks on him, too. The bite mark currently bruising his shoulder was just the latest. "Yeah," he sighed.

They each took a few silent moments to revel in the memory, and Ziva's hand tightened on his thigh. She'd honestly had every intention of holding off until they got home, but the man was demolishing her resolve. Stupid DiNozzo had been right; her life really did have more meaning after she'd slept with him.

"Half an hour," she said.

"Hmm?"

"If we can't clear the house for an hour or two, I can make do with a half hour."

Tony stared at her, trying to work out if she was serious. She had that look in her eyes, the one he'd learnt usually preceded the shedding of clothes and the bruising of hips and shoulders, and that caused the tightening he now felt in his belly.

"Okay, but that's not you making it up to me. I've still got that one in my pocket."

Ziva nodded. "That's fine. I'll need the whole afternoon for that."

Tony grinned. This stakeout was suddenly becoming a lot more interesting. Except that now he was going to be stuck in this car with her for God only knew how long, waiting for a 30-minute window that could be hours or days away. He sighed heavily. God, he _really_ hated stakeouts.

He turned his attention back to the street. Tourists were crowding the sidewalks in clothes that were too short or too tight, and locals were welcoming them into their restaurants and bars with aloha smiles. A yellow jeep with two surfboards strapped to the top crawled by, and Tony recalled their conversation from earlier in the evening.

"Are you really going to go surfing tomorrow?"

Ziva didn't know where she'd find the time. "Probably not." She looked over at him in interest. "Do you really surf?"

He shot her a typical Tony smile. "Yeah. I learnt in college."

A frown creased her forehead. "I am only a new American citizen, so correct me if I am wrong. But Ohio is rather far inland, yes?"

"Yeah, but one of my frat buddies' families had a beach house in North Carolina. We used to head there on break."

Ziva tried to imagine that. "A frat boy surfing vacation?"

Tony smiled whimsically. "Yeah. I destroyed a couch there, too."

"More vomit?"

"No. I spilled bong water on it."

Ziva weighed that up. "I am not sure which is worse. Did you buy those people a new couch as well?"

Tony looked at her like she was crazy. "I was 20, Ziva. I barely had enough money to eat."

Ziva realized he had a point. She knew his father had cut him off when Tony was quite young, and he'd made it to college on a full athletic scholarship. It wouldn't have left much room for buying furniture for strangers.

"Where did you get the money to go to Europe after college?"

"Inheritance from Mom's brother," he said. "It was just enough to cover the flights and put me up in half-star hostels. Me and Josh had to work in bars so we could eat and get into clubs."

Ziva watched the sparkle in his eye and the wistful smile that tugged at his lips. "You had the time of your life, didn't you?" she guessed.

"Oh yes," he said on a nostalgic sigh. He was about to tell her about his day at La Tomatina in Buñol when his cell phone rang. He flipped it open without bothering to check caller ID. "Yeah, boss?"

"We're heading your way," Gibbs told him. "He's about a block down from your location."

"On foot?"

"Yup. Parked a ways back"

"We're parked across the road from the bar, about 30 feet up the hill."

"We'll keep our eyes on the back."

Gibbs hung up without waiting for a response, and Tony filled Ziva in on the development. They watched Gibbs and McGee roll by and disappear further up the road, looking for a left turn that would take them to an access road behind the strip of businesses Tony and Ziva were watching. Then Werner appeared amongst the crowd of tourists, and walked into the same bar Juliet had entered. It was another 20 seconds of excitement that petered out as quickly as it had flared.

Tony stretched his chest and yawned. "I reckon we've got at least 30 minutes until anything happens. You sure you don't want to give the back seat a try?"

Ziva knew he wasn't serious. "Thank you for the offer, but no."

He reclined his seat a few degrees. "I hate stakeouts."

Ziva rolled her shoulders, and turned her thoughts back to the case. "Do you think Juliet has any idea that Werner is so enamored with her?"

Tony rolled his head against the seat to look at her. "I think she'd have to know, but people can get pretty good at turning a blind eye to what they don't want to see."

She agreed, but wasn't sure that was what was happening here. "But when he spoke about her tonight, he obviously had very strong feelings for her. Feelings he has held for months, at the least. Surely he could not hide that from her for so long. At least not so well that she wouldn't know how he felt."

Tony gave her an affectionate look, and wondered why she was being so unaware tonight.

Ziva frowned at the look. "What?"

He chuckled. "I think you and I both know how difficult it is to pretend you don't feel the way you do."

Ziva nodded at him making her point. "Right. Exactly. It is exhausting."

He went back to his original point. "Yeah, but people convince themselves of what they want to believe all the time. Werner's convincing himself that Juliet needs him to save her. Juliet's convincing herself that he's harmless." He paused as he came up with more examples. "McGee is convincing himself that he doesn't know anything about what's going on with me and you. Abby's convincing herself that McGee isn't pining for her. Gibbs is convincing himself that his rules actually allow him some control over what we all do. Whatever helps you sleep at night, you know?"

Ziva considered that. "What are _we_ convincing ourselves of?"

Tony shot her a brilliant smile. "Nothing. We're the only ones with our feet on the ground."

Ziva laughed at the blatant lie. If she had to guess, she'd say that the two of them were convincing themselves that what they were doing together wasn't actually as big a deal as it really was. But she wasn't going to mention that now.

"I think she must know," she said, returning to the case again. "And I think she has to suspect that Werner is somehow involved in the deaths of three of her recent dates."

"You don't think she's in on it?" Tony asked.

"No."

"Is that because you bonded over liking men with great smiles?"

Ziva smirked, but didn't look at him. She knew one of his more brilliant smiles would be on display right now. "I cannot think of a motive," she said. "And she seemed genuinely surprised to hear that our navy men were dead."

Tony nodded in agreement. "Yeah. She did. So our theory is that Werner's so crazy about her that he's been driven to kill?"

"It is hardly a rare motive. I guess he just can't deal with carrying unresolved feelings anymore. It is making him do crazy things."

Tony had certainly seen flimsier motives in his time. He poked her shoulder. "So, what you're basically saying is that if you didn't jump my bones—"

"Ugh!" Ziva broke in, objecting to the term.

"Excuse me. Engage me in sexual congress after that party Abby had," he amended, smirking at the way she continued to crinkle her nose, "then you would have started drowning people?"

"It sounds like overkill when you say it out loud," she replied, playing along. "You are never going to let me forget that I broke first, are you?"

Tony clicked his tongue and grinned. "No. I won't."

Ziva shot him a self-aware smile. "Fine. I do not mind being the gutsy one."

He chuckled at the spin she put on it. "You mean the drunk, horny one?"

"Hey!" she said, feigning offence and holding up a warning finger. "I was not drunk."

"Oh, I apologize for that slander. Let me amend the record."

She shifted in her seat to face him. "Are you suggesting that you would have preferred to have waited another five years? You know, just to make sure that you really wanted it."

He shook his head firmly. "No. I would have drowned _myself_ by now if you hadn't made that move."

"It is actually very difficult to drown yourself," she started to inform him, but off his disturbed look, she decided to drop it. "But that's not important right now." She turned her head and looked out the window.

Tony stared at the back of her head for a moment before his eyes went heavenward. She really knew how to kill the mood.

* * *

It was another 90 minutes before Tony and Ziva were roused from their shared stupor to witness Gus Werner exit the bar. He was alone, without any sign of his date from the other night, or anyone else for that matter, and his body language as he stomped off down the street indicated that he wasn't pleased, to put it mildly.

Ziva popped open her door. "I've got him."

She stepped out onto the sidewalk and shadowed him from across the street. She kept him in view until he reached a public car park two blocks from the bar and got into his white Toyota, and then speed dialed Gibbs for an update.

"Yah."

"Werner has left the bar. He is now sitting in his car a little way up the street." She watched Werner lift a pair of binoculars and point them back down the street. "And he is watching the bar with binoculars."

"We're coming around," Gibbs replied over the sound of an engine turning over. "You and DiNozzo stay on Juliet."

"Got it."

She hung up, and waited on the corner until she saw Gibbs' sedan pull into the lot. She watched him signal to her through the window, and then made a quick pit stop at a 7-Eleven before heading back to the car.

Tony wasn't prepared for the magazine landing in his lap in conjunction with Ziva stepping back into the car. He jumped and grabbed it before it fell to the ground, and managed to get another hand on the chocolate bar that followed the magazine. He flipped the magazine over.

"_Sports Illustrated_ and a chocolate bar? It's like you know me!" he said with faux wonder.

"You're welcome," she replied. "Gibbs and McGee have moved to the car park. Werner is sitting in his car with binoculars."

Tony ripped open the treat. "He's really gunning for the Crazy Stalker of the Year crown, huh?" he said, and held out the chocolate bar to offer her first bite.

Ziva shook her head at it. "Or Law Enforcement Professional of the Year." She gestured at the binoculars sitting between them.

"I don't think his brand of peeping comes with Uncle Sam's stamp of approval," he replied, and then shoved half the bar into his mouth.

"Gibbs wants us to stay on Juliet."

"Roger that," he said around a mouthful of chocolate.

Ziva wrinkled her nose at his manners. "Ugh, you're a child."

Tony swallowed before replying. "_I'm_ a child? You're the one who giggles every time you hear the phrase government stimulus package."

True to form, Ziva snickered. And so did Tony.

"You know, I heard that thing's supposed to have a happy ending," he told her.

"Really? I heard it was going to get pretty rough." She gave him a wink and grabbed the magazine. She flipped to a random page, and started reading about some basketball star that every team in the NBA apparently wanted to sign. She gave a few moments' thought to Tony's should-have-been basketball career, and found herself giving selfish thanks for a torn ACL and the small group of scars around his left knee.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Ziva drew her shoulders forward to stretch her back as she nodded. "Yes, but if it is that thing about my bra size again—"

"I don't need to ask you that," he cut in. "I'm a talented investigator."

Ziva snorted. "So, you went through my underwear drawer?"

He grinned at her. "Ziva, I do not need to resort to such childish, albeit fascinating, methods to know that. I've just got a really good eye for these things."

Ziva dismissed it, mostly because she actually believed him. "What do you want to ask?"

Instead of replying, Tony went silent, and Ziva felt the mood in the car change. She turned to look at him, to make sure he hadn't said something and she'd missed it. But the look on his face was something she wasn't used to seeing on him. He was nervous. Tony was never nervous. And that fact that he was now made _her_ nervous in response.

"What?" she asked again, her tone much softer.

Tony swallowed. "Okay, I know this isn't very organic, and the sooner we stop having these serious conversations and start talking about where you're going to get my name tattooed, the better. But I just need to know." He paused as he gauged whether she was coming along with him into scary conversation land, or whether he should turn back now and try to take her another day. But she was still holding his gaze, and although she looked cautious, he was pretty sure she was still with him. _Damn it_. That meant he actually had to have the balls to ask.

He swallowed again and turned her question from last night back on her. "Are you sure that _I'm_ the guy?"

Ziva controlled her breathing as her heart started pounding and blood started rushing through her ears. Although she was sure her face was relaxed, she recognized the internal signs of panic. She didn't understand why she was reacting this way, exactly. She knew the answer, she was confident that it was the _right_ answer. Furthermore, she knew after last night's discussion that he was sure about her, so it wasn't even like she would be exposing herself and setting herself up for rejection. But actually saying the words, making the—oh my God—_commitment_, was harder than she expected. She'd never been one to back down from a physical fight, but it was these emotional ones, the ones that required her to strip away the soldier to expose the functioning heart and soul underneath, that she'd always found had beaten her.

She heard a little voice in the back of her head, the one that belonged to the Ziva who was terrified of being anything but completely independent and in control, whisper that this could be her get out of jail free card. She'd lost the Gibbs card, but this could be the one remaining thing she could clutch at to stop her going over the edge.

Her heart pounded in anticipation of shutting him down, but then Rational Ziva reared her head one more time and ground her heel on Scared Ziva's fingertips. _Fall, you idiot._

She took another breath, and calm returned. The blood in her ears quieted, and the lump in her throat dissolved. He'd been there for her last night when she'd needed his reassurance. Now he needed hers. Why the hell would she want to deny him?

She gave him a smile that she felt deep in her chest, and stripped away her soldier. "Yes. Without question." She leaned across the console towards him, and paraphrased his line from the previous evening. "Just because you won't let me say it yet, doesn't mean it is not true."

Although he barely smiled, his eyes filled with a crush of emotion that made her throat tight. He was looking at her in that way he had across the pillow in Paris, that humbled, frightened and fulfilled her. With her confirmation of the thing that he'd wanted to believe in so badly, she'd managed to make him happy. And that was the ultimate payoff for allowing herself to be honest.

"Really."

She shrugged, accepting it as the truth. "I am certifiable."

"You're certifiable."

"Yes."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "About me?"

She touched his cheek with affection. "It will be your name I'll be screaming when they take away my shoelaces."

Tony laughed and turned his head to kiss her palm. "I'll be committed long before you."

"Maybe they will allow us to have adjoining rooms."

He gave her a soft look that made her stomach flip, and then leant over to give her a warm, lingering kiss.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I know you don't want to talk things to death, but…I just needed to know."

Ziva shook her head. "No, I understand. You do not need to explain yourself."

He gave her another quick peck before pulling back and glancing at the door to the bar. "Okay, she's got to come out of there soon, because we _really_ need to get out of this car."

"We could pull the fire alarm," Ziva suggested.

He gave her a fleeting, adoring look. "I love your hell-raising, law-breaking, devious side."

"I will remember that."

"While we're working," he continued. "It's a great asset in the _field_."

They both looked over to the bar, just in time to see Juliet stagger out onto the sidewalk and leaning heavily against a guy who could barely stand up himself.

Tony nudged Ziva. "Do you remember being bestowed with special powers when we got off the plane?"

"No, I missed that."

"Because…I wished for it, and it happened," Tony continued. "That never happens."

"It's happening now."

Tony dialed Gibbs and started the engine. "Yeah, boss. Juliet and a companion have just lurched out of the bar and they're trying to flag down a cab."

"Werner's getting ready to move," Gibbs said. "We'll follow him. I want you to stay close, but let's not make this a convoy."

"Get McGee to relay your position to Ziva," Tony said. "We'll take the scenic route."

They both hung up, and a few moments later, Ziva's cell rang. She answered McGee's call on speaker as a cab pulled over to accept Juliet's fare. They gave the lead cars a minutes' head start, then pulled out into the steady traffic. They followed McGee's directions east along the same route they'd taken two nights ago, towards the base and Juliet's apartment.

Eventually, McGee relayed their final destination. "The taxi's pulling up at Juliet's place."

Tony and Ziva shared a frown as Tony turned off the arterial road two blocks from the others' position.

"Is her date with her?"

"No, she's getting out alone."

"Werner?" Tony asked.

"He's stopped down the street," McGee replied. "We're going to have to drive around the block."

"Where are you?" Gibbs asked over the speaker.

"Two blocks south of you."

"Hold back at the end of the street."

Tony pulled over just down from the intersection that would take them to Juliet's house. A few moments later, a taxi passed in front of them with at least one passenger in the back.

"Taxi's heading back west," Ziva told them.

"No date tonight?" McGee asked.

Ziva replied, "I must have spooked her."

After a beat, McGee said, "We're pulling back around now. And it looks like Werner's still in his car. Juliet's nowhere to be seen. Must be inside."

Tony pulled the handbrake with a quiet sigh. Same stakeout, different setting. "You think she's slipping into something more comfortable for killing?"

It wasn't clear who he was addressing, but it was Gibbs who replied. "It doesn't make any sense for her to leave her date, and then go after him and have to break in. If Juliet had plans to kill him, she would have gone straight home with him."

Tony nodded along. "I know. I was just making conversation."

The comment was met with a pointed silence, and Tony lifted a hand to rub the back of his head where it had suddenly started tingling.

"You two head back," Gibbs finally said. "He's not going to do anything more tonight. We'll hang around a while longer until he gives up and heads home."

"Got it, boss," Tony said, and then Ziva hung up the phone. "Thank God," he muttered to her. "I don't have the patience for this crap anymore."

"How long do you think he's going to stay there?"

Tony shrugged as he started the car, and then pulled it into a tight u-turn. "Who knows? If he's crazy enough to kill, he's crazy enough to sit on the street outside her house all night."

Ziva bit her lip. "So, at least half an hour, you think?"

Tony's head snapped around to her as her meaning became clear. She raised an eyebrow, and Tony responded with a smile.

"I'm willing to risk it."

**

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**

**After Tony put himself out there, I thought it was only fair that Ziva did too. And frankly, I think Tony's probably the more insecure of the two. All that self-confidence he displays isn't entirely honest.**

**I ripped the shoelaces line from one of the greatest TV shows ever. If you recognized it, then we're destined to be friends forever.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I actually didn't intend to write this chapter. I'd planned to just allude to what happened. But there seems to be rather a lot of interest in hearing the details, so what follows is **_**your**_** fault.**

**While the content of this chapter definitely deserves an M rating, the overall tone of the story doesn't, so I'm not changing it. I'm just putting in this BIG WARNING that if you're not into adult situations, or you're too young to be reading it, give this chapter a miss and come back in chapter 13. You're not going to miss any plot points. Seriously. This is just a smut fest.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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Walls were good for plenty of things. Holding up ceilings was the obvious use. Sectioning buildings into separate rooms. Providing privacy. Holding up pictures, mirrors and shelves. One thing they weren't good for though, generally speaking, was to be used as a surface to have quick, hard sex against. It was a wonder that so many people tried. It required one partner to be fairly light, the other to be quite strong, and both to have good balance. It led to bumped knees, smacked heads and bruised spines. It almost never led to a satisfying orgasm, unless you were already 80 per cent there before the wall came into play.

Ziva wasn't. Although she enjoyed the feeling of being trapped between the wall and Tony's body as he roughly pulled off her top and kissed her, she needed to move them elsewhere if she was going to scratch the itch she'd been feeling since they'd arrived in Hawaii. And besides, the last time they tried to do this against a wall, Tony lost his balance and they fell, and he very nearly broke his most prized possession.

Taking the lead, Ziva put her weight into him until he took a step back. She stripped off his t-shirt as he walked her backwards in the general direction of the bedrooms, and he shot her a roguish smile before bringing his mouth down to hers for another wanting kiss. She felt his hands slide around to her belly, and a moment later he yanked at her jeans, popping the buttons in one go before roughly shoving them down her legs with her underwear. Ziva let out a squeal as she tripped on the denim, but he caught her before she fell, and only bumped her into the wall twice before he got them to her bedroom.

Tony reached blindly for the door, and caught it with the very tip of his index finger to swing it closed. He backed her against the wall again, bruising her mouth with hungry kisses as she undid his belt and pushed his jeans and boxers off his hips.

"Rule breaker," he said against her mouth.

Ziva nipped his bottom lip as she wrapped her hand around his shaft. "You're welcome."

Tony may have had a witty response ready to go, but it was replaced by a groan as her hand stroked his length. She kept her touch maddeningly light as she backed him over to her bed, and then let go before she gave his shoulder a shove. Tony dropped to the mattress, but instead of staying there as she expected, he slid to his knees between her legs, gripped her hips in his hands, and brought his mouth to her heating flesh.

Ziva cried out and grabbed his hair at the first long, strong lick. Her head became light at the sudden rush of blood south, and tingles spread through her body at the gentle roughness of his tongue moving between her legs. In the last few months, Ziva had found the man to be ridiculously talented at the task, well deserving of his reputation and a much more of a giver than she'd expected. The first time he'd gone down on her, he'd teased her almost to death before making her thrash and scream until she was hoarse. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Tony's mouth was his best attribute and he loved to use it, no matter what he was using it for. Smiling, talking, kissing—_especially_ kissing. Tony was the kind of guy who lost himself in kisses.

But right now he was losing himself in the motion of licking and sucking at her flesh. Ziva arched her hips forward as she felt herself flood and swell, and then long, skilled fingers joined his mouth and pressed their way inside her. She let out a long moan as he touched her exactly how he'd learnt she liked it, and Tony hummed against her in response, sending delicious vibrations through her and igniting a spark at her centre. She left one hand in his hair, gripping the strands gently as her other hand slid up to her breast to intensify the sensation. He crooked his fingers as he flicked her clit with his tongue, and Ziva felt her thighs start to shake. For all her anti-wall thoughts from minutes ago, right now a strong surface to lean on sounded like a good idea.

She moaned his name as sensation started to take over, and her breathing grew shallow and sharp. She could feel herself getting to the tipping point, where if she let him go much longer, she wouldn't let him stop until she was fully sated. As much as she enjoyed this kind of attention, she didn't want to come like this tonight, and they only had limited time. So she drew all her willpower, and slid her hand under his chin to lift his face.

"Wait, stop," she panted.

Tony pulled back, and one eyebrow lifted in disbelief (and possible offence). Ziva bit her lip in frustration.

"We don't have time," she elaborated. "Not that it's not appreciated."

He smirked, and then held her eyes as he leant into to give her a final kiss. Ziva whimpered as he withdrew his fingers, but it was for the greater good.

"That's a first," Tony said, lifting himself to sit back on the mattress again. He scooted back to the middle of the bed and grabbed her hand, and Ziva crawled over to him. "I'm going to try not to take offence."

"Don't," she said with a firm shake of her head. "I just do not want to lose our window of opportunity."

Tony growled at the thought, and rolled them so she was lying underneath him. Ziva felt him resting heavy and hard against her thigh, and a shiver of anticipation went through her. She caught a flash of humor in his eyes that she suspected was in response to her desire for his 'third knee', before he dropped his mouth to her neck, and his fingers returned to stroke her between her legs.

Ziva groaned, and pressed her thigh against his cock. "Tony, enough," she said impatiently. "_Dahuf_!"

Tony wasn't familiar with that particular Hebrew phrase, but he got the gist of it. He licked the side of her neck as he ran his hand down the back of her thigh, and then hooked his arm under her knee and lifted her leg higher. His mouth came down on hers as he sank into her, and they both moaned at the feeling.

"Thank God," he murmured against her cheek. He was growing more confident in this relationship, but he still ridiculously grateful whenever he got to experience her sublime body.

Ziva echoed the sentiment, bit she was more concerned with moving things along. "More," she said, urging him on even before her body had fully adjusted to his length.

They were on agreement on that point, too. Tony reared back and plunged forward again, and they soon found a fast, hard rhythm that fit their urgency and desire. His mouth went back to lick and suck at her neck—careful not to leave marks—and she let her fingers scrape down his back as she cried his name and angled her hips the way he liked.

"Zi," he started through gritted teeth, as he started feeling overwhelmed by her. She was so hot, so damn slick that it made him light headed. The smell of her, the taste of her on his lips, the sound of her cries and moans made him crazy and his thrusts started loosing their finesse. A quickie was all well and good, but this was _too_ quick. He needed to slow this down just a bit.

He gave her a hard kiss, and then let go of her leg before he rolled them so she was on top. The movement caused him to slip out of her, but Ziva quickly sat back and snapped her hips, drawing him inside her again, and deeper than before. Tony's hands ran along her thighs, over her belly and up to cup her breasts and run his thumbs her hard nipples. Ziva cried out as tendrils of pleasure curled through her veins, and rocked her hips against him. The friction wasn't enough, though, so she ramped up her movements.

She started lifting herself up on her knees and dropping down again, over and over, impaling herself as hard as she could while keeping it on the good side of painful. Tony held on to her waist as he threw his head back against the pillow and shouted, and Ziva watched with a dreamy smile as the cords in his neck bulged and his skin flushed. This is what he'd been after, she knew. It always made him crazy when she rode him like this, and she felt no small measure of satisfaction that she knew how to press his buttons just as well as he could press hers.

Soon enough though, she gave in to the needs of her own body. She switched her movements from up and down to back and forth, rolling her hips and delivering the friction where she wanted it. She clenched around him as she found the perfect amount of pressure, and soon she started snapping her hips faster and faster. She closed her eyes and braced her hands on his chest as she focused on the feeling of him moving inside her, so deep that the sensation shot all the way through to her chest, coaxing her towards release.

Tony growled her name from beneath her, and the sound sent another shot of pleasure through her. She loved his voice like that, so rough and raw and broken, and so unlike his everyday tone. It was the voice he took on when he was really losing himself, when his movements started being dictated by the raw instinct of his body instead of his head. She squeezed him harder, screaming with the effort until she felt the beginnings of her orgasm build deep in her belly. The rolling fire grew and grew, spreading to her thighs and up her torso, down her arms and up the back of her neck. Her hips were moving as fast as her muscles would allow, grinding down on him as the primal urge to drive him deeper took hold. The climb seemed to go on forever, testing the limits of what she could take until finally her head snapped back, her back arched and she screamed at the ceiling as she exploded.

Tony watched her in awe as she cried out and shook and fell apart on top of him. She looked so beautiful like this, so wild and alive and coming at his touch. He could watch the scene for hours, if not for his desperate need to join her in release. He slid his hands up to rest against her ribcage under her breasts, partly to hold her up, and partly so that he wouldn't start forcing her hips back into their rhythm. He bit his lip as he waited it out and she rolled her head around to look down at him, and when he sensed the moment was right, he flipped them once more and kissed her deeply as he buried himself inside her again.

Ziva cried into his mouth at the hard touch against her overly sensitive flesh, but clamped her thighs around him to encourage his movement. His hips started moving of their own accord, greedily chasing the same blissful relief that she was reveling in right now. He planted his hands on the mattress either side of her shoulders and then lifted himself off her chest, putting all his weight on her hips as he drove faster. Ziva scraped her nails down his chest, making his hair stand on end with the electric spark it created, and she looked up at him with a glint of mischief that made his spine tingle.

"Come on," she pushed, and the scrape in her voice sent a shot of pleasure straight to his cock. "Harder, Tony."

She clamped her muscles down on him again, making him cry out and his hips hammer harder into her. She squealed an affirmation and gripped his arm, and her other hand went behind him to press against the small of his back. He locked his elbow and balanced on one arm as he reached between them and pressed his thumb to her clit. Her hips jumped as she thrust up into the touch, and she yelled his name.

Tony let out a long, hard groan as she began pulsing around him again, and he could feel her pelvis shuddering as she hurtled towards another orgasm. He squeezed his eyes shut as he silently begged her to get there before him, and as soon as he felt her body surge and heard his name shouted to the heavens, he let go of the tenuous hold he had on himself. He gave a few more hard thrusts, and then roared as he came apart. The sweet release of the pressure within him shot through every nerve ending, and he rode it out until his muscles gave out and he dropped onto her chest with a grunt.

Still basking in the final remnants of her own release, Ziva slowly slid her arms around his back, and turned her face into the crook of his shoulder. She drew in panting breaths of Tony's scent as a sweet wave of lethargy sweep through her from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Her energy was expended, her muscles were tired and her awareness was slipping away as her eyes drifted closed over a sated smile. Her body was telling her that it needed rest, and Ziva couldn't fight it. A 15-minute nap in the cocoon of Tony's body sounded like heaven right now.

As Ziva started slipping away, Tony's breathing evened out and his heart rate slowed. He turned his head to brush a soft kiss to her cheek as he withdrew, and the touch to her over-sensitive flesh brought a hip twitch and a sharp, breathy sigh out of her. He smiled at the now familiar reaction and shifted to the side of her. Ziva held on to his arm across her body with a muttered protest about him moving away, but she needn't have bothered. He wasn't going to move from here until he had to.

He opened his eyes halfway to find Ziva's face just an inch from his, and then lifted his head just enough to look down at the picture she presented—lips swollen and upturned in a small smile, skin flushed and hair wild across the pillow. The knowledge that he'd had a hand in doing this to her filled his chest with pride and the now familiar sense of contentedness. He lifted his hand to cup her jaw, and moved to give her a warm, soft kiss. Ziva hummed against him, and ran her hand up and down against the warm skin of his back. He dropped his head back to the pillow.

"Better?" Ziva murmured to him, barely awake.

He kissed her shoulder. "Mmm. It'll tide me over for a little while."

Ziva wriggled closer to him, burrowing into his warmth before drifting off. Tony reached down to pull the sheet up over them, and snuggled in against her. He knew she'd probably be out for 15, 20 minutes. Usually, he would be too. But someone had to keep an ear out for the others, and be awake enough to jump up and grab their discarded clothes from the living room, dining room, and possibly the kitchen when their car pulled up in the drive. He didn't mind being the one on guard. Tonight he was happy to just lie quietly with her, and think about what she'd told him in the car.

She was sure he was the guy.

**

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**Okay, this chapter was shorter than the others, but not even I can write 4500 words of pure smut in one sitting. I have my limits, people.**

******And yay! A bunch of you knew that the shoelaces line in the last chapter was from Press Gang. You all have excellent taste. For anyone who hasn't seen it, go find it **_**now**_**. The word play alone will change your life. Best. Show. Ever.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Welcome back to those of you who skipped the last chapter. To recap: um, Tony and Ziva did it. And Tony was happy. Now you're caught up.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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Gibbs was mildly uncomfortable.

When he and McGee had finally arrived home last night an hour after he'd dismissed Tony and Ziva, they were both still awake. Tony was sprawled on the couch in front of a sports panel show on TV, and Ziva was unloading the dishwasher in a tank and boxers Gibbs assumed were her pajamas. There was plenty of distance between them, but things still seemed far from innocent. DiNozzo had been way too relaxed and happy, and Ziva was moving around languidly with the cat-like grace she'd had when she first arrived in DC. The movement was nothing like the stiff, controlled, aggressive stride she'd taken up sometime between then and now, and it spoke volumes. What also spoke volumes was the unmistakable sense of sex in the air.

The two of them had clearly made use of their free time.

Gibbs needed to think about his kids having sex about as much as he needed a bullet in the head, so he'd been more than happy to abscond to his bedroom as fast as possible and leave McGee to fill them in on the big nothing that had occurred after they left.

Now Gibbs was sitting in a goddamn car again, this time with DiNozzo. He would have preferred not to bring his senior agent on this trip to the medical center, but he needed a break from McGee, and Ziva would have made him even more uncomfortable. He didn't have that much of a problem with what they'd done. His problem was that he _knew_ what they'd done. He was trying to look the other way and accommodate the situation, but that was hard to do when they were stuck in a house together.

The sooner they wrapped this case and got back to DC, the better.

The problem was, they weren't getting any breaks. Scratch that, they were fairly certain they knew who was responsible, and why they'd done it. They just couldn't find any _evidence_ to back up their theories. It was time to shake the cage.

That's why they were at the medical center. Gibbs and Tony planned to approach Werner in his role as one of Juliet's co-workers, and ask a couple of questions that would make him think they were about to arrest her for the murders. If he was in love with her as they thought, hopefully it would pressure him into saying or doing something stupid that they could end up busting him for. They couldn't go in while Juliet was around, though. It might backfire, so they had to wait until Werner came out. That meant another goddamn stakeout.

It was for a good cause, but if Tony had to do much more of this sitting around crap, he was sure he was going to lose his head. He was only coping now because there was a conversation he wanted to have with the bossman. This was the first time Tony had been left alone with Gibbs since Gale had made the comment about the team leader position. He'd had the chance to talk to Ziva about it, but Tony also wanted the opinion of the man who'd arguably had the greatest influence on who he was now. Their partnership had lasted a decade, and in that time, Gibbs had shown Tony how to be a man and made him a better agent. Tony would be forever grateful for Gibbs stepping in and smacking him into shape when he had no obligation to do so. He was like a father to him. The only problem with that, was that talking to your father about icky _feelings_ could be torture. If this wasn't so important, he might have let it go. But it was, so he sucked it up and tried to be the man he was.

"You think Vance would really consider me for team leader?" he asked, as casually as possible.

Gibbs took a slow draw from his coffee cup. He knew this conversation was coming, and he wasn't entirely looking forward to it. "Can't see why he wouldn't."

Tony nodded, but that wasn't exactly what he was after. He tried to think of a less needy-sounding way of asking, but it eluded him. "Would you support it?"

Gibbs should have known that Tony would push it. He grunted in the affirmative, but still tried to talk around it. "You know you can do it, Tony."

An ugly pang of failure shot through Tony's chest. Gibbs wasn't answering the question. Was he trying to spare Tony's feelings? That didn't sound like Gibbs—he was a give-it-to-you-straight kind of guy. But it was all Tony could think of. Did he really not have confidence in Tony's ability to lead? It hurt to think it, and God knew Tony was a glutton for punishment. He forced a straight answer.

"But would you support it?"

Gibbs glanced at him, his expression unreadable as always, and then looked back out the window. "It'll be a shame to lose you," Gibbs said, relieved that the tightness in his throat wasn't reflected in his voice. "But I'd support it."

And just like that, the pang in Tony's chest evaporated. One word of encouragement and faith from Gibbs, and Tony was in a good mood again. "Thank you."

Cue awkward pause. Two veteran cops sitting in a car, having a heart-to-heart and refusing to look each other in the eye. Yup, this was party town.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "I haven't heard anything about what Vance is planning to do when Michaels retires," he said honestly. "It wouldn't surprise me if he did have you in mind to take over. But I'd still let him know that you're hungry for it."

"Yeah."

Gibbs heard the touch of indecision in Tony's voice, and glanced over again. The kid was looking out the passenger window, but Gibbs recognized the set in his jaw. "Do you want it?" he checked.

"Sure," Tony replied too easily.

Gibbs' eyes barely narrowed as he tried to work out what was going on. It didn't take too much thought, especially when he knew Tony as well as he did. The thing about DiNozzo was that he was loyal to a fault. He was a cop to the bone, and he never left a comrade behind. To Tony, leaving the team to go to another one would feel like he was abandoning Gibbs, McGee and Ziva. But Gibbs knew that they'd all been relying on Tony in their own ways for too long, and they had to stop it. They had to let him move on to where he wanted to be.

Of course, Gibbs knew that wasn't the only reason for him to move on. He'd really hoped not to get into this, but Tony deserved the effort.

"Can I give you some advice?"

"Yes," Tony said, sighing in thanks. Advice sounded wonderful.

Gibbs looked out the window again. There was no way he wanted to risk catching his eye during this. "If you're serious about Ziva, and I think you are, you should lobby Vance hard for this." Tony didn't respond, but Gibbs sensed him listening to every word. "I've been where you are now. Trying to mix personal with professional. It's _hard_, Tony. Real hard. If you get the opportunity to separate them again, I'd take it."

Tony didn't doubt for a second how uncomfortable Gibbs was at that moment, bringing up his private past to help Tony with setting up his future. It was a fairly big deal for Gibbs to reference anything about their former director, and Tony was undeniably grateful that he was making the effort.

There was a stretch of silence, during which Tony tried to think up the right words and tone for his thanks, but Gibbs spoke again before Tony could open his mouth.

"What you've got," he said, "it doesn't come around very often. You owe it to each other to do what it takes to make it work." He paused to let the weight of that sink in, and then threw to a joke to gently end the conversation. "And you owe it to the rest of us for making us sit through it for the last five years."

The tightness in Tony's throat dissolved with his self-deprecating laugh. "That's good advice. Thank you."

Gibbs grunted, pleased to have said his piece, and relieved they'd gotten through that without DiNozzo asking for a hug. He took another long sip of coffee.

But Tony wasn't done. He hesitated before he spoke again, knowing that this would really be pushing Gibbs' limits. But now there was an elephant sitting in the back seat, and Tony couldn't let it go without drawing attention to it.

"Thank you for being good about it."

Gibbs sighed to himself. Part of the reason he and Tony had worked so well together for so long, was that DiNozzo was good at reading the room and taking a hint. Why the hell did he have to go and screw that up now?

Damn it, he knew why. The kid looked up to him as some kind of father figure, and Gibbs had to admit that both humbled him and filled him with pride. He'd always encouraged the behavior in the past, and right now, even though he was uncomfortable in the role, he had to keep it up. He couldn't let Tony down.

"You haven't given me a reason not to be, DiNozzo. You're doing good."

"I appreciate it," Tony said, beyond relieved that the boss still considered them to be professional. "I would have said something before now, but I didn't know you two had talked until the other day."

He was expecting Gibbs to tell him to shut up. Instead, Gibbs chuckled.

"Talked," he repeated.

Tony didn't get it. "What?"

Gibbs looked over at him, amusement now clear in his eyes. "We didn't _talk_. She told me in no uncertain terms how it was going to be."

Tony frowned as he tried to make sense of the unexpected information. "What do you mean?"

Gibbs shrugged, but the glimmer of humor remained. "I walked in one morning, and she just started unloading on me. I don't know why."

Tony thought back to what Ziva had said on the plane about that particular morning. He felt a snicker catch at the back of his throat as he realized the major flaw in her thinking. "She said she was wearing the same clothes as the day before, and she was trying to explain—"

"Jesus, DiNozzo, you think I have a clue what you all wear every day?" Gibbs cut in.

Tony knew he was right. Ziva had freaked out over nothing that morning, and spilled her guts to Gibbs when he hadn't even been suspecting them of anything. A laugh broke free before he could catch it, but he tried to cover it as a cough.

"No, I don't," he answered Gibbs, and then looked out the window as he regained control over his laughter. "Uh, she said you threatened to bury her in your back yard."

Gibbs shrugged again, playing down his protective streak for his senior agent. "That might've come up," he said casually. "Only 'cause she kept yelling at me. I was trying to get her to stop."

Tony's eyebrows almost hit his hairline. "She was _yelling_ at you?"

Gibbs looked back at him and cracked a smile at Tony's surprise. "You didn't think she'd go in to bat for you? She did, DiNozzo," he assured him. "And then some. No one's used that tone of voice on me since Shannon."

Tony stared at him as the meaning of the real story about what happened set in. Ziva had gone toe-to-toe with Gibbs for him. That was no small feat, and it was another sign that she was really serious about him. A smile broke over his face, and he looked away again before Gibbs slapped it off him. Goddamn, he was _so_ in love with her.

"I'm gonna talk to Vance," he heard himself say, and as soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew for sure that he would.

Gibbs nodded once. "Good move, kid."

It was a good move. For Tony, anyway. But now Gibbs was forced to think about everything he was about to lose. Tony was the silent leader of their team. He was the buffer between Gibbs' moods and the others, who always stepped into the firing line to spare McGee and Ziva from the full force of Gibbs' frustrations. Setting aside his truly impressive field skills, Tony also oversaw the others' paperwork, and took half of the work Gibbs was supposed to do as well. Gibbs was aware that he'd been using the guy as a security net for years now. McGee had been using him as his mentor, and Ziva had been using him as her right arm. Without Tony, Gibbs and Ziva turned gruff and cranky, and McGee lost confidence in himself. God only knew how Abby would cope. She hated change within the team. When Burley left, she'd cried for a week. And she'd only known him for six months. After ten years with a guy who'd assumed the role of her big brother, Gibbs couldn't begin to imagine how long she'd be in mourning.

Damn it, this was a loss that was going to hurt for a long time.

* * *

At 1230 on the dot, Gibbs and Tony watched Werner walk out of the medical center and cross the car park. They stepped out of the sedan quickly, and moved to intercept the doctor before he could drive away. They met him at the front fender of his car, and Werner tried to step around them, not realizing he was their mark. Tony blocked his path though, and Werner looked up to give them a wary yet curious look.

"Hi?"

Gibbs handled the introductions. "Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo, NCIS," he said, showing his ID, and then his badge in tandem with Tony. "You're Gus Werner?"

Werner looked between them, now leaning more towards wary than curious. He squinted against the sunlight that was starting to redden his skin. "Yeah," he said at length.

"Doctor Werner, we're investigating the deaths of three navy men on base over the last month. Petty Officer Steve Woods, Ensign Noah Silverman, and Supply Clerk Shaun Hill."

Werner nodded, and Gibbs and Tony noted the change in his expression as he switched from 'worried' to 'cooperative witness'. "Yeah, I heard about that. It's a real loss."

"Did you know them?" Tony asked.

Werner played it cool. "Me? No. I heard about what happened through office scuttlebutt. Real big loss," he repeated.

Tony held up Juliet's ID photo. "How about her? You know this woman?"

Werner started at the photo for a moment, and then shifted his weight between his feet. "Uh, yeah. That's out receptionist, Juliet Spencer. Why?"

Tony put the photo back in his pocket and fixed his angry cop face on him. "We have witnesses that place her with each of the victims on the nights before they were killed."

They watched his face fall.

"So?"

"You don't think that might be a little more than a coincidence?" Gibbs baited.

Werner shook his head firmly. "No, if you're suggesting she had anything to do with those deaths, you're wrong. Juliet is a kind, loving soul. There's no way she could do anything like that."

Tony and Gibbs shared a look, pretending to weight that up. Tony shook his head at Gibbs like he wasn't buying it, Gibbs shrugged noncommittally, and Tony continued to question.

"How well do you know Ms Spencer?"

"I, uh, she's a colleague," Werner faltered.

"So, not very well," Tony shot, aiming to make the comment sting.

"Better than most," Werner shot back, and Tony noted his fist clenching around the handle of his briefcase. "We're friends. We talk all the time, and I know she couldn't do this."

"Did she tell you about those dates?" Gibbs asked. "Or any of the dozen other dates she goes on every month?"

"They're not dates," Werner said firmly, shooting Gibbs a filthy look. "She just likes meeting new people. She gets to talking, but they're _not_ dates."

Tony looked to Gibbs. "Me and Agent David found this out when we interviewed all those witnesses who saw Juliet leaving the bars with the dead guys," he said conversationally. "Apparently it's not dating when you don't make a prior arrangement to meet up, and if you only end up having sex."

Gibbs played along. "Sounds real classy."

"Except that Ms Spencer _did_ make plans to meet up with Shaun Hill," Tony continued. He looked at Werner's red face. "Did she tell you that?"

"No."

"So, she doesn't talk to you about her, I must say, _epic_ love life?"

Werner's eyes shot daggers at Tony. "Not always," he gritted out.

"Have you ever dated her?" Gibbs asked, managing to sound simply curious. "Or met up with her without making prior arrangements?"

"Of course not," Werner replied hotly. "She's a colleague. That would be a gross violation of workplace ethics."

Tony held on to his eye roll. "Ever have sex with her?"

"No!" he said, sounding offended. "What kind of question is that? Who the hell do you think you are coming down here and asking these things?"

Gibbs looked to Tony. "We showed him our badges, right?"

"Pretty sure," Tony replied.

Gibbs said, "Doctor Werner, in your capacity as Ms Spencer's colleague and friend, have you noted any changes in her mood or general demeanor lately?"

"No," he said, and then pushed past them. "I'm not answering any more of your questions. To think that Juliet would turn to murder, even after being used by those men who were only interested in one thing, is ridiculous and offensive. You want my opinion, that's it." He wrenched open his door. "I have another appointment to get to."

"Thanks for your time," Tony called just before the door slammed shut.

The two of them stood where they were, and watched as Werner gunned the engine, and then reversed like the space was on fire. He lay down a strip of rubber as he took off towards the street.

"Well, he's sufficiently rattled," Gibbs said.

"Yep," Tony nodded. "Wanna grab a burger?"

Gibbs grunted a yes.

* * *

Back at the base house, Ziva was on the phone to Abby after spending some time checking Juliet's claims about being picked up by cabs as she left each residence. The cab companies had all confirmed that they'd picked up fares from the dead men's addresses around the time Juliet said they had. That almost cleared her of any wrongdoing. The base ME had concluded that each man had died at least an hour after she'd left them, so it was unlikely that she was the one to pour water down their throats. Unless she'd doubled back after she left and used the cabs as an alibi. Ziva sincerely doubted it, but McGee was out at her apartment building now talking to her neighbors, and trying to find anyone who might have seen her come home on those nights. They had to be sure.

Now Ziva was picking half-heartedly at a sandwich and listening to the unpleasant news that Abby still hadn't found any foreign DNA on any of the victims' sheets, even after she'd gone over them three times with the forensic equivalent of a fine toothcomb.

"I hate this case," Abby said dejectedly, clearly feeling guilty for not finding anything that would help them. "I need something else to work with. Have you got anything else?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, we haven't found anything, but..." She paused, weighing up whether she should bring this up with Abby, or wait until Tony had a chance to warn her. She decided to forge ahead. "There is something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh, yay!" Abby said, now enthused. "Jimmy's sitting exams, so it's just been me and Ducky this week. We've been having lunch together every day, but I miss having you guys to talk to as well. So what's up? What do you want to talk about? I'll talk about anything."

Ziva bit back a smile. "In that case, have you spoken to McGee recently?"

"Sure! I talked to him last night. He's getting sick of stakeouts."

Ziva nodded. "That feeling is going around, yes. Did he mention anything about...something to you?"

Abby was quiet for a moment. "Is that how you talked in code at Mossad? Because it kind've sucks."

Ziva didn't think it was a legitimate question. "He didn't seem...uncomfortable at all?"

There was another pause, and then a clear smile in her voice. "Is this about you and Tony smooching on the beach? Yeah, he told me about that. Actually, he told me more about how uncomfortable it was the watch with Gibbs sitting next to him, but _you_ can tell me about the smooching if you want."

Ziva shook her head to herself. "No, I wasn't referring to that."

"Oh." Abby sounded deflated again. "He didn't say anything about anything else that was uncomfortable. What happened? Did he walk in on Gibbs in the shower or something?"

Ziva decided McGee probably hadn't told her about Gale's bombshell. "No, as far as I know McGee has not had to deal with that particular situation."

"Oh, thank God," Abby said, her words weighed with relief. "Because I don't know if he could recover from that. Tony saw _it_ once, like, a year after he started? Gibbs was in an accident and they had to cut off his clothes, and I think it took Tony about six months to be able to look him in the eyes again. He didn't like it at all." She paused. "I mean, he didn't like the situation. Not the, um, appendage. I don't know how he felt about that."

Ziva squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the visual. "Abby, we can stop talking about that incident whenever you are ready."

"I'm ready."

Ziva bit the bullet. "I had just wondered if McGee had told you about the conversation we had with Agent Gale the other day."

"Nope."

"Right. I think you should know."

"Know what?"

"Agent Gale told us that he is good friends with Stan Burley."

"Stan? Oh my God, I _love_ Stan!" Abby cried.

Ziva rolled her eyes to herself. "Yes, that appears to be the overriding sentiment when his name is mentioned. Anyway, he said that Stan had told him about when Tony first joined the team."

Abby snickered. "Oh, are you talking about that nickname? I don't know why we don't use it anymore. Probably because Gibbs didn't want his head getting any bigger."

Ziva paused. "What nickname?"

Abby backpedalled. "Huh? Nickname? I don't know, I never heard it. What are you talking about?"

Ziva let it go. She was confident she'd be able to get it out of Tony later. "I'm talking about how you and Tony dated for a short time."

Ziva heard a suspicious crash across the line, a yelp of pain, and then Abby started talking at triple speed. "What? Me and Tony? That's so wrong, Ziva, on so, so many levels. No, that never happened. I don't know why Stan would say—"

"Tony already admitted it," Ziva cut in, sparing Abby from trying to lie. The woman really was terrible at it.

"Damn it!" Abby cursed under her breath, before her tone became pleading. "Ziva, I swear it wasn't anything. It was just..."

"Sex," Ziva supplied. "I know. He said that too."

"Well, of course he would, because it's the truth," Abby insisted. "So, um...McGee knows?"

"Yes."

"Right," Abby sighed. "And…how did that go down?"

Ziva twisted her lips as she thought of an appropriate response. "He was surprised."

"But not upset?" Abby asked hopefully.

"Well, he may have calmed down now, but he did make some...bitchy comments to Tony."

"And you're going to make some bitchy comments to me now?" Abby sounded like she was wincing.

But Ziva told her the same things she'd told Tony. "Abby, it was ten years ago. I am not upset at all. It is ridiculous to hold a grudge against you for something that happened before I met either of you."

"Okay, good," Abby said on a sigh. "Because I swear, I don't have the slightest desire to touch Tony under the clothes now. I mean, don't get me wrong. He's so pretty to look at and I'm fairly envious of the crazy hot sex you guys are probably having, but he's like my brother, you know? I love him in a _I'll give him a kidney_ way. Not in the way that involves under-the-blankets adult situations."

Ziva couldn't hold back her chuckle. "Abby, I know. Don't worry about it."

Abby cleared her throat nervously. "Does Gibbs know?" she asked in a small voice.

Ziva shook her head firmly. "No, he was not there."

Abby let out a long breath. "Okay. Can we all please agree that Gibbs _never_ needs to know?"

"I cannot imagine any situation in which I or Tony would think it would be a good idea to tell him. However, I cannot speak for McGee."

"I'll deal with him," Abby said.

"It would be best coming from you," Ziva agreed.

"Hey, Ziva?" Abby asked, with a smile back in her voice. "You realize that I just called you out on having crazy hot sex with Tony, and you didn't deny it, right?"

Ziva's eyes widened in alarm, and she thought back over the conversation. _Damn it!_ She was right. She sighed into the phone, and thought about denying it now. She'd already told Gibbs without Tony's agreement. It didn't seem right to tell Abby as well.

"Could we maybe leave that conversation alone until I've had a chance to talk to Tony?"

There was a sharp intake of breath over the line, and Ziva braced for Abby not leaving the conversation alone _at all_. But Abby surprised her with her slow, controlled tone.

"Of course," Abby replied evenly. "I will maybe ask you about it again tonight."

"Abby," Ziva started to admonish.

"Zeee-vahhhh!" Abby cut in, dropping her calm act for the whine of a five-year-old.

Ziva rubbed her face. "Just give me a few hours."

"I'll call you back at six!" Abby said, and then hung up without waiting for a response.

Ziva held the phone to her ear, listening to the dial tone as she processed what had just happened. She was a spy, an interrogator, trained by the best, but somehow she'd managed to let Abby get the better of her? America really had made her soft.

She snapped her phone shut and slid it back into her pocket, as her thoughts drifted to how Tony was going to take this. Technically she had been the one going on about keeping things low key, so he couldn't really get too upset about it. And she had the feeling he'd prefer to be upfront about it with their friends anyway. But on the other hand, he'd been keeping his mouth shut for her, and she was blabbing to the whole agency without his agreement.

She dropped her head and rubbed her face with a sigh. For something that she knew she cared so much about, she was really doing badly at this relationship thing.

**

* * *

Shoddy writing alert: Um, I know that Ziva would've checked about the cabs and McGee would've checked with the neighbors after their interview with Juliet. I meant to put that in a few chapters back, but I forgot. It needs to be included through, so…yeah. My bad.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I think something screwy happened with the posting of chapter 13. Either that or you all hated it. Let's hope this post goes more smoothly.**

**Points to It'sMyFavoriteSong for being the first one to get the Psych references!**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

If the chicken hadn't already been dead, it would have been begging for mercy.

Tonight it was McGee's turn to cook, but Ziva had volunteered to take over the task he clearly dreaded. She was frustrated by their lack of solid evidence in this case, and she hoped that the chopping, kneading and grinding actions of cooking would help alleviate some of the frustration she'd managed to build up since last night's release. True, she'd prefer to just get her partner into bed again, but she doubted there'd be another half-hour window for that tonight.

She brought the cleaver down hard, separating the bird in two as her body reacted to the thought of another round with Tony. He'd wandered into the kitchen just ten minutes ago, and made it clear that he was willing to go for it without even clearing the house. With the sound of Gibbs and McGee arguing in the living room clearly audible, Tony had fitted himself to her back, kissed her neck and slid his hand between her legs.

"Five minutes," he'd murmured, and she had to admit she'd considered it.

But somehow she'd found the strength to hold out, and told him that five minutes wasn't enough. Nor was 30 minutes. She needed two hours, at a minimum. Tony had removed his hand only to hug her as tight as Abby ever had, and kiss her repeatedly. She supposed that meant he was looking forward to it. So was she. The man was a freaking drug.

With no mortar and pestle in the kitchen, Ziva put some spices in a zip lock bag and then slammed the butt of the cleaver down on it repeatedly. They needed to wrap this case up, and fast. If she had to spend another week in a house with Gibbs and McGee while Tony watched her with dark, hungry eyes, she was going to lose her mind.

She tipped the ground spices into a heated pan and splashed in a liberal amount of olive oil. They'd just started to toast when her cell phone rang, and she grabbed it with one hand while stirring the spices with her other. Fearing Abby's call, she was more than a little relieved when she didn't recognize the number that was displayed.

"David," she answered, and tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder as she tended to the spices.

There was a pause before a familiar, breathy voice came back at her. "Um, is that Ziva?"

Ziva snapped to attention, and put on her American accent again. "Juliet?"

"Yeah! Hi," Juliet said. "Um, I'm really sorry to bother you, Ziva. I'm not sure if this is something I should call you about or call the police, or..."

Ziva shook her head and quickly shut off the gas on the stove. "It's fine, Juliet," she said, as she dashed to the living room and drew the rest of the team's attention. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I feel horrible even saying this," Juliet told her. "But...I think Gus, I mean Dr Werner, I think he's been in my house."

Ziva felt the flip inside her that told her they had a break. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, I could be wrong, but I'm sure I saw him tonight on my way home from work. I was on the bus about two blocks from my house, and I saw his car coming the other way. And I didn't really think much of it, but then I got home and…I don't know, Ziva. I just had this feeling that someone had been here. I know it sounds stupid."

Ziva shook her head. "Not at all. You get a sense for these things. Have you noticed anything missing?"

Juliet hesitated. "Um, I don't think so. But things are just...there are a few things that just aren't exactly where I left them. God, it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud."

"It's not," Ziva assured her. "Listen, I want you to stay there and don't touch anything, okay? I'm coming over now and we can talk."

Juliet started to backpedal. "God, it's probably in my head."

"I'm going to come anyway, okay?" Ziva said. "Just stay there, and don't let anyone else in."

Juliet sighed. "Thanks, Ziva."

"I won't be long," Ziva assured her, and then waited for Juliet to hang up before snapping her phone shut. She looked up at three expectant faces. "Juliet thinks that Gus Werner was in her apartment this evening. She doesn't think anything is missing, but she feels someone was there, and saw him in the neighborhood before she returned home."

"Take DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "We'll go roll by Werner's place."

They all stood, but McGee didn't immediately check for his gun and badge like the others did.

"So, is dinner ready yet?" he dared to ask. At the scowl he got from Gibbs, he tried to explain himself, "To take with us, I mean. I didn't have lunch today."

Tony and Ziva stood up and left the scene before they could witness any blood being spilled.

* * *

Juliet opened her door with wide eyes that smiled at Ziva, and then lingered on Tony. She smoothed her hair behind her ear and opened the door wider, leading with her chest.

"Hey, Ziva," she said like they were old friends.

Ziva gave a finger wave, following Juliet's lead. Just as she had done during their interview, she was trying to put herself on the same level as Juliet. The approach seemed to have worked before. "Hi. This is my partner, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." Ziva couldn't remember the last time she'd referred to Tony with his full name and rank, as it were, but she had a feeling that Juliet would go for it.

Sure enough, Juliet's eyes fell to look him up and down, and she gave Tony a brighter, flirtier smile. "Oh, sure. We met at NCIS the other day."

Tony nodded and gave her a charming smile. "We sure did. Mind if we come in?"

Juliet giggled at nothing, and opened the door wide enough to let them pass. "Sure. Thanks for coming around."

Juliet's apartment was small, but she used the space well. There was a galley kitchen along one wall that looked out onto the apartment complex's communal courtyard, and an overstuffed red couch against the facing wall. The centerpiece of the room was a large, solid dining table stained with red paint, and four matching chairs. She'd strung fairy lights across the ceiling, and placed a dozen candles around on bookshelves, tabletops and in candle holders affixed to the wall. There was a thick white rug on the floor, and a bowl of figs on the coffee table. The place seemed set up for seduction, but Tony couldn't work out why. Juliet seemed to go home with other people. She didn't invite them back here. Maybe she just liked being surrounded by the mood.

"Can I get you a drink?" Juliet offered.

Ziva shook her head. "Maybe we could just talk about what happened tonight while Special Agent DiNozzo has a look around?"

Juliet nodded, and Tony waited until she and Ziva were seated at the table until he went back to the door and checked out the jam. He kept an ear on their conversation while he looked for signs of forced entry.

"You said you saw him on your way home?" Ziva prompted.

"Yeah," Juliet said, and then stared at Tony's ass for a full five seconds before raising an appreciative eyebrow at Ziva.

Ziva smirked and nodded in acknowledgement, but tried to keep things on track. "Were you sure it was him?"

"Yes," she said, and tucked her hair behind her ear again. "I mean, I know it was his car. I see it every day, so I'm sure about that."

"And you're sure it was him driving?"

Juliet frowned. "Yeah."

"Where was he when you saw him?"

Juliet pointed in the vague direction of the street. "The bus was just coming up Napili Avenue. That's just down the street. I was about to get up because we were near my stop, and I saw him driving past like he was going back to base."

Ziva made a note on her pad, and then leaned forward. "Why don't you tell me why you think he was in here?" she asked, softening her voice.

Juliet bit her lip, and then leaned forward too. "You know how I said the other day that he's asked me out a few times?"

Ziva nodded, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Tony take some fingerprint powder and a brush out of his backpack.

"And I said he was cool with me saying no?"

Ziva nodded again. "Dating co-workers. It's a bad idea."

"I think maybe he wasn't so cool with it," Juliet admitted. "I mean, he really is a nice guy. And he was never, like, rude or pushy. But he was kind of insistent the last time he asked. He said he thought that he was someone I could settle down with."

"And what did you say?"

Juliet laughed. "Uh, that I wasn't ready to settle down, and I was having a lot of fun. He said that he'd be good for me, but then he dropped it and that was that. But…"

"Did he ask again?"

"No," she said. "But I've started seeing him out all the time. Like, I'll hook up with some guy, and then all of a sudden Gus'll be there all _hey, what's up!_"

They both glanced at Tony at the soft click of his camera. Juliet frowned at the black powder over her door, but Ziva put her hand out on the table to regain her attention.

"You think he's started following you?"

Juliet looked back at her with worried eyes. "It sounds so stupid," she started.

"Don't worry about how it sounds," Ziva told her.

They held gazes for a moment, and then Juliet nodded, her expression turning guilty at the thought of betraying someone who was supposed to be a friend.

"Yeah, I think so," she said quietly. "And I'm just worried that he might've…" She trailed off as tears filled her eyes.

Ziva spotted a box of tissues on a bookshelf, and stood up to fetch it. She put the box in front of Juliet and rubbed her shoulder before sitting down again.

"He's a doctor," Juliet said, dabbing at her eyes. "He helps people, right? So I know he doesn't have it in him. But…I just keep thinking about those poor boys who died. What if…" She trailed off again, unable to bring herself to condemn him.

Tony stood up, finished with processing the door, and caught Ziva's gaze. She gave him a subtle nod.

"Did you see Doctor Werner when you were out with any of the victims?"

Juliet nodded again. "When I was out with Shaun. He was there. He came over to say hi. And I'm not positive, but I think I saw him when I was getting into a cab with Noah."

Ziva refrained from unleashing the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "That's very helpful," she told Juliet.

"Is he in trouble?" Juliet asked, almost wincing.

"Not if he didn't do anything," Ziva replied.

Tony moved to stand beside Ziva. "Juliet, has Doctor Werner ever been in your apartment? Aside from tonight, I mean."

"No, never."

"So there'd be no reason to find his fingerprints in here, or on anything you own?" he checked.

Juliet shook her head. "No."

Tony nodded, and pointed down the hall. "You mind if I have a quick look in your bedroom?"

"Go ahead," she told him. "My iPod's on the nightstand. It's one of the things I'm sure has been moved. Just a couple inches, but I'm sure."

Tony lifted his backpack over his shoulder and shot her another charming smile. "I'll check it out," he assured her, and headed down the hall.

Juliet watched his ass again, and then leaned closer to Ziva. "What does your boyfriend think about you working with a guy that hot every day?" she whispered.

Ziva smiled, but it would be stupid to tell her that Tony _was_ her boyfriend (in a manner of speaking). Tony was doing some low-level flirting with Juliet in case they needed him to charm some more information out of her later. There was no point in saying something now that might make Juliet doubt Tony's sincerity in the future. And Ziva hardly felt the need to mark her territory. The flirting he was doing with Juliet was just the part he was playing in this. It wasn't like Ziva believed he was honestly interested in their witness.

So instead of telling the truth, she shrugged like it was no big deal. "He doesn't mind."

Juliet gazed down the hall again. "He's got a great smile."

In Juliet's bedroom, Tony smirked and shook his head to himself. It was true that he'd worked damn hard to get where he was, to become a respected agent and to make a name for himself. But in some cases, all the talent in the world couldn't compete with luck-of-the-draw genetics.

As Ziva and Juliet continued to talk about Werner in the front room, Tony walked further into the bedroom. He felt a sense of déjà vu as he looked around. He'd seen this bedroom a hundred times in his life. A queen-sized bed was covered in girly pillows and a flowery bedspread. There were pictures of butterflies and flowers on the walls. More candles had been placed around the room, and there was a closet big enough to house a family of gypsies across from the bed. Everything looked neat and tidy, and he couldn't immediately see anything that looked out of place. The only patch of mess in the room was in the far corner, where a mountain of shoes looked like it would topple with the slightest touch. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a woman in her 20s.

He headed over to her nightstand and took a couple of shots of the iPod sitting on top of some chick-lit book with a pink cover. Then he dusted it, and he made a face at the treasure trove of prints all over it. These things were like fingerprint Mecca. Probably most of them would be Juliet's, but with any luck Werner would have left one as well.

As he was finishing up, his cell phone rang. He read McGee's name on caller ID before answering. "Yeah, DiNozzo."

"Good news," McGee said, and Tony could hear his excitement over the line. "We just got a call from Abby. The medical examiner here in Pearl Harbor found some tissue stuck between Shaun Hill's front teeth. He thought it was a bit of his tongue, but sent it for DNA anyway. Results just came back."

When McGee stopped there, Tony made a _hurry up_ gesture at the wall. "_And?_"

"Wasn't his. But we got a positive match against Gus Werner's service records," McGee practically sang.

Tony dropped his head back in relief. "Nice. So we've just got to get Werner to say that he never put any of his body parts inside Shaun Hill's mouth."

"Uh, yeah," McGee replied, sounding uncomfortable.

"We've got more good news," Tony offered. "Juliet just told us that she saw Werner while she was out with both Noah Silverman and Shaun Hill. She thinks he was following her."

"Motive?"

"Possibly. I took some prints from her front door and her iPod and I'll send them through to Abby as soon as we leave. Might be able to get him on break and enter as well."

"Could add another year to his sentence."

Tony peeked up the hallway to the front room. Ziva and Juliet were still talking, but Ziva was wearing what Tony called her 'neutral face'. Tony decided that meant they were done with discussing Gus Werner, and Juliet was now talking about something Ziva had no interest in.

"Where are you?" he asked McGee. "We'll come meet you."

"Gibbs is trying to get a warrant," McGee said. "He wants to go in about 0500 tomorrow and catch him by surprise."

Tony's jaw clenched. "If you say the word 'stakeout'," he started warningly.

"Not for us," McGee assured him. "Gale's sending a team over to watch him until morning. He's still at home. Hasn't moved since we got here."

"Thank God," Tony sighed. "Okay, we'll meet you at home."

"Oh, wait!" McGee called out before Tony could hang up. "Can you tell Ziva that Abby said she'll call her tomorrow. She said it was important."

Tony shrugged, not the slightest bit interested in that. "Yeah, whatever."

He snapped his phone shut and made his way back up the hallway. Ziva looked up at him over Juliet's shoulder, and Tony gave her a wink and a smile. Her expression barely changed, but he knew she understood by her heavier exhale of breath.

"Do you have everything you need, Special Agent DiNozzo?" she asked.

Tony stood between them and shot Juliet another smile. Juliet sat up straighter, and seemed to grow two more inches of cleavage instantly. Ziva found herself sitting up straighter as well.

"I'm all done," he said. "We're going to go run these prints and see what we come up with."

Ziva stood up, and when they both headed for the door, Juliet stood as well.

"Um, so you'll tell me if it was him?"

"Yes," Ziva assured her. "You'll be fine tonight. He's not going to come back."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Tony said. "But if you want to stay with a friend tonight, we can give you a lift."

Juliet dashed to her bedroom. "I just need to grab a few things."

* * *

As soon as Tony heard that they'd be cooling their heels until morning, he knew that he wouldn't get much sleep that night. After dropping Juliet at her sister's house, and a brief team meeting about their plan for the takedown, Tony had taken his nervous energy to his bedroom to change into running gear. He was only mildly surprised when he came out of the house to find Ziva stretching on the front lawn in running shoes, shorts and a tank top.

"Want some company?"

He shot her a DiNozzo smile. "Always."

They headed left at the end of the driveway, and then started off at an easy pace. For the first few hundred feet, they ran in companionable silence. Tony watched the waves rolling in against the beach, and thought about Ziva's swim the other morning. He was disappointed that he'd missed that. Although the sight of her naked body undid him, witnessing her Ursula Andress moment was something he wanted to experience. He wondered what his chances would be like of convincing her to come back here for a couple of days. No dead bodies, no cases, no Gibbs and McGee. Just them, a beach and a bed. That's all he needed.

He thought about bringing it up with her now, but decided it was too soon. Yeah, they'd said some scary honest things to each other in the last few days, but he still wasn't sure if they were ready to talk about 'couple' activities. He thought he'd give it a few more weeks. Right now, he went back to the case.

"So, what did you guys talk about when I was in the bedroom?" he asked.

"Aside from your fine ass?" she shot at him with a smile.

"That's a given."

"I asked her why she told us that she slept with the victims," Ziva said. "Told her that the autopsy didn't find any evidence of sexual activity."

"What did she say?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "That they used condoms. I told her there would still be some evidence of her on the victims, and pointed out that we didn't find any used condoms at any of the scenes. But she kept saying that they'd had sex."

Tony shook her head. "Why would she insist? It just makes her look like she's involved in this."

"I don't think she gets that," Ziva said. "I think she's more interested in protecting her reputation."

"As someone who sleeps around."

"Right."

They ran a block in silence, slowly picking up their pace.

"Why would Werner break into her house tonight?" Ziva asked.

Tony thought it over for a few steps. "Maybe he wanted to find out what she knows," he suggested. "He was spooked after this afternoon. Maybe he wanted to ask her whether we'd questioned her, and what she'd told us."

"Why break in?"

"He's panicking."

"Why leave without talking to her?"

Tony shrugged. "He's still panicking."

They turned a corner, and went quiet as they ran past three kids on a lawn, chasing each other with water guns. The tallest kid turned to look at them, and aimed his gun at Tony. Tony held his hands up in surrender, before grabbing Ziva and dragging her across his body to cover him. A few drops of water hit her shoulder as the kid fired, but Ziva barely felt it. She lost her pace for a moment as she tried to keep her balance, and ended up two steps behind Tony. She took the opportunity to land a kick to his butt.

"You're supposed to cover me from fire!" she cried. "Not throw me in front of it to save yourself."

"What fire? I was pointing you towards cool, refreshing water to soothe your warm skin."

"We've run four blocks," she pointed out. "I haven't even broken a sweat yet."

"So sue me. I like it when you're dripping wet."

A laugh bubbled up from her chest. "So you throw me in front of a tiny water pistol being fired from ten feet?"

He smiled back at her. "I thought you'd go for that over my skinny dipping idea."

She chuckled again. "Maybe we can come back some time and do that."

Tony raised an eyebrow. Maybe they _were_ ready to talk about couple activities. "Sounds good."

They ran around base for about 45 minutes before making it back to the house. It was still early, not long past 2100, and McGee was still up and sitting at the dining table with a laptop. He didn't look entirely pleased to see them when they came in.

Tony eyed him suspiciously. "What're you doing there, McGeek?"

"Catching up on my emails," he said tonelessly.

He glanced up in time to see Ziva hand Tony a glass of water, and serve it with a wink. McGee frowned, and had an unwanted flashback to the night before where he'd been forced to watch them make out. After those few minutes, McGee was almost positive Abby was right about them. It wasn't the fact that they'd been kissing—they were selling a cover, and McGee bought that they were both prepared to go at least that far and probably beyond to protect it. Instead, the thing that had convinced him that they'd turned a corner was the familiarity of the act. There was no awkward second where they tried to work out how to come at each other or how to fit together. They already seemed to know how the other would move. And when they'd returned to the car, they'd seemed completely calm and comfortable. For two people who had, until recently, been staggering under the weight of five years of sexual tension, they sure hadn't acted like those kisses were a big deal.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva asked him.

"Went for a run by himself."

Ziva finished her own glass of water and handed it to Tony to deal with. "I am going to have a shower."

Tony took the glasses to the kitchen, and then wandered through the dining room en route to the lounge. "Want to watch a movie, McTim?" he called.

"No, I'm busy."

Tony winced at the tone. It sounded like McGee was still pissed about the Abby thing. He would have liked to have talked about it with him, but it didn't sound like McGee wasn't in the mood to hear it. He let it go for now, but he knew they'd have to resolve this before they returned to DC.

**

* * *

I've just set up over at LiveJournal, and will start posting fics over there as well as here. Once the new season starts I'll probably also start recapping/commenting on the episodes. If you're over there too, come say hi.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I think it's about time we wrapped up the case part, don't you?**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

If Team Gibbs had a camera crew from _COPS_ following them for the takedown of Gus Werner, the footage would have ended up on the cutting room floor.

They had arrived outside his house the next morning just as it was getting light out, while Werner was still in bed. He'd been completely surprised to see four armed federal agents on his doorstep, and had let them in without a fuss. After being served with the warrant for his arrest, he looked like he was going to put up a fight, but with so many hands resting on so many guns, he wisely chose to come along quietly for further 'questioning'. Gibbs stood guard while he changed out of his pajamas and into jeans and a shirt, and then they all bundled into the car and headed for the NCIS building. It was over in 30 minutes, and it had all gone perfectly to plan.

Gibbs had decided the night before that Tony would get to lead the interrogation. While it hadn't been mentioned, Tony knew it was Gibbs' attempt to let him get another feather in his cap before he approached Vance about the team leader position, and he was determined to do a good job of it.

Werner sat in the seat Juliet had occupied days ago in the interview room, hands clasped and staring straight ahead with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes. His posture told Tony that he knew what he was in for, but he'd never known a perp to immediately come out with a confession, and there was still enough arrogance in the man's attitude to tell Tony this would take a while.

"Thanks so much for coming in," Tony said, as he pulled out the chair across from Werner and sat down.

Werner's arms were crossed tightly over his chest as he scoffed. "Did I have a choice?"

"Well no, really," Tony said. "I was just being polite before I get on with nailing your ass to the wall." He met Werner's glare with a charming smile.

Tony laid the photos of each of the victims out on the table, taking the time to ensure they were evenly spaced and perfectly aligned. Werner swallowed as he looked down at each one, but quickly raised his eyes to Tony.

"Petty Officer Steve Woods," Tony began, tapping the table above the young man's photo, and drawing Werner's attention back to it. He moved his finger to the next photo. "Ensign Noah Silverman, and Supply Clerk Shaun Hill."

Werner swallowed again, but didn't say anything.

"When we spoke yesterday, you said you'd never met them."

"That's right," Werner said.

Tony gave him a derisive smile. "You completely sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Really? You're going to stick with that line?"

Werner narrowed his eyes. "I never met them," he said firmly.

"Okay," Tony said easily, as if letting him off the hook, and then clasped his hands behind his head and leant back. "So you never met them. Do you remember where you were on the nights of the 19th and 26th of last month, and the 2nd of this month?"

Werner gave him a withering glare. "Do _you_ remember where you were on those nights?"

Tony couldn't, but he smiled like he could. "Oh, yeah. Good times."

"I don't—"

"Let me refresh your memory," Tony cut in, leaning forward again. "Those were the nights that these three men were killed."

"I don't know where I was."

"So you don't have an alibi," Tony said.

"I was probably home."

Tony consulted his file for show. "So, the witness we have that says you were at Trinity Bar on Waikiki on Saturday night was mistaken?"

"Yes."

"Hm," Tony grunted. After Juliet had told them last night that she thought she'd seen Werner at two of the bars, they'd gone back through all the footage to see if they could find him and hit pay dirt.

He grabbed the remote control by his left hand, ad then pointed it at the TV in the corner. Soon they were watching video surveillance footage of Werner sitting in Trinity Bar. The date stamp was late Saturday night.

"Isn't that you sitting at the bar?"

Werner swallowed and took a moment to keep his calm. "Okay, yeah, I may have had a drink. So what?"

"You had two drinks," Tony told him, and then skipped to the next lot of footage, of a car parked on a street with the date stamp of a few hours later. "This is a photo from an ATM just down the street from Trinity. That's your car, right?"

Werner opened his mouth, but Tony held up a warning finger. "Think before you answer."

Werner clenched his fists on the table, and cleared his throat. "Yes. It's my car."

"And that's you sitting in it."

"Yes."

"So, you _weren't_ at home last Saturday night."

Werner didn't answer. He looked back down at the photos, and Tony tapped Shaun Hill's ID shot again. "The night Shaun Hill was killed."

"If you say so."

Tony tapped his finger against his chin. "Want to guess where you were on the 26th when Noah Silverman was killed?" He didn't wait for a response before skipping the footage again. The new shot was over the door of another club as Werner walked in. "That was taken at Sugar's. The same bar Ensign Silverman was at."

"Fine. So I was there."

"Do you need me to show you footage of Rock Pool Bar on the night Steve Woods died?" Tony asked, and then leant over the table to stage whisper, "There's a surprise twist at the end."

Werner spread his hands. "Okay. So I like bars. Doesn't mean I know anything about dead navy guys."

"You know who else was at those bars on those nights?" Tony asked. "Your soul mate, Juliet Spencer."

The corner of Werner's eye twitched. "Really. I didn't notice."

Tony chuckled. "Are you sure about that? Because she's kind of hard to miss," he said, and gestured at his chest. "Actually, she said that you often turn up while she's out."

"I guess we like the same places."

"Guess so. So, you never met Shaun Hill?"

Werner heaved an irritable sigh. "I said no."

"Never ran into him, never had a conversation with him, never touched him."

"Correct."

Tony smiled. "So, how do you think a little strip of your skin ended up between his front teeth?"

Werner hesitated, and Tony raised his eyebrows, encouraging him to take a stab at an answer. Werner closed his mouth tightly, and he crossed his arms over his chest again.

Tony leaned forward. "_I_ think, that it got stuck there when you pried his mouth open so you could pour water down his throat and drown him."

Werner shook his head. "Never happened."

"Then how do you explain it?"

"I can't."

Tony watched him carefully, and weighed up with path to take. "You wouldn't be the first person to do something crazy for love. Edward VIII abdicated his throne. Orpheus went to the underworld to get Eurydice back. That emperor built the Taj Mahal. Meatloaf—he'd do _anything_ for love. Except one thing, although I never worked out what that was."

"Who am I supposed to be in love with?" Werner challenged.

Tony blinked. "Oh, is it supposed to be a secret? Okay, I'll play. Those guys that you killed? There were all on dates with Juliet Spencer. Your receptionist. The woman you've repeatedly asked out. Who you're convinced needs you to save her from herself and all those guys who take advantage of her. The woman who you follow every time she goes out. Do you need me to go on?"

Werner shook his head. "She's just a friend," he said, but his voice wavered and hurt was clear on his face.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, that's what she wants, but you're not so cool with that. Why don't I wrap this up for you so you can see where I'm coming from? Then you can tell me how wrong I am all in one go." He waited for a response from Werner, but when none was forthcoming, he forged ahead anyway.

"Okay, so you're in love with the fair Juliet. I get that. She's beautiful, she's spunky, she's sweet. You ask her out, but she says no. Maybe the first time she knocked you back, you were okay with it. But you work so close together, and you started forming a friendship. Instead of getting over it, you start falling harder for her. You keep finding little snippets of information that convince you you're meant to be. You ask her out again, but she still says no. She doesn't date co-workers. And now that's hard for you to swallow, because you're sure, you feel it in your bones, that you're meant to be together."

Tony stood, and started a slow, circular pace around the room. "Maybe the first time you followed her, it was to get an idea of the kind of guy she was looking for. I mean, she's got a reputation, right? As someone who dates freely and sleeps around. You've just got to know why she'd go out with all these other guys and not you."

He paused behind Werner's chair, and met his eyes in the two-way mirror. "Look at you. You're a catch, right? Stable job, brains, charm, you got that lantern jaw working for you. Women like Juliet should be falling over each other to land you."

Werner's eyes darkened with what looked suspiciously like sadness, and Tony started walking again.

"You kept seeing here with all these nothing guys," Tony said. "These guys who didn't see the smart, warm, beautiful woman you did. They only saw her body. They only wanted to use her for their own selfish desires. And that made you crazy."

He leaned over the table and pointed at the photos. "These guys? They were only the last in a line of many. Too many. Each time she rebuffed you and went out with someone else, it was another blow to your ego. Another slap in your face. You were angry, but you couldn't take it out on her. Not when you love her as much as you do. So you targeted her dates."

Werner started to shake his head, but Tony didn't give him a chance to interrupt.

"You followed them after they left the bars," he said, his voice rising. "You waited in your car outside these men's houses while they had sex, and when Juliet left, you went in. You found these men in their beds, so drunk they couldn't fight you, and you held their heads back and looked into their eyes while you forced water down their throats and into their lungs. You drowned them."

"I didn't—"

"You shut them up," Tony charged. "Juliet wouldn't stop sleeping around and getting a reputation for yourself, so you stopped it yourself. You killed them so they wouldn't tell all their friends about her and dirty her name even more, right? You killed them because you were so jealous that they got to touch her, and you never would."

Werner's head dropped, and his face contorted with tears. Tony sensed the fight was almost over, and he slid back into his chair across from him. He took care to even his voice out, dropping the hardness for something much kinder and concerned.

"You're not doing yourself any favors right now, man," he said. "We've got a motive. We've got evidence. You're not walking out of here today. But you can help yourself by telling me what happened. I know you feel remorse. I know it's been weighing on your mind. But if you tell me about it, it's going to be so much easier for you to deal with."

Werner hesitated for a few long seconds, and then seemed to cave in on himself. He cried into his hands and his shoulders shook, and Tony let out a quiet breath. Got him.

"I didn't plan it," Werner sobbed. "The first guy. I went in to tell him to stay away from her and keep his mouth shut. I was just going to scare him. But he was asleep with this goddamn self-satisfied smirk on his face, and I just…I got so mad. There was a bottle of water right there on the nightstand. A pen on the floor. He didn't wake up when I touched his head, and after that…It was just so easy. It didn't even feel like it was me doing it."

"Did he struggle?" Tony asked.

Werner looked up, his expression broken. "A little. It was his body just reacting to it. But I don't think he was aware at all."

"That was Steve Woods?" Tony checked.

Werner nodded and touched Woods' photo. "Yeah. This kid."

"What about the others?"

"Same thing," he said, sniffling.

Tony clasped his hands. "Just to be clear, you're admitting to the murders of Steve Woods, Noah Silverman and Shaun Hill?"

Werner looked back at him with crushing guilt. "Yes," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

Tony kept his cop face in place while he nodded. "Did you also break in to Juliet Spencer's apartment last night?

Werner nodded. "Yes, but I was never going to hurt her," he insisted. "I just wanted to talk to her. You guys said that you thought she'd killed them, and I just wanted to warn her and tell her I'd help her out. But she wasn't there and I got nervous waiting. I didn't want you all to turn up to arrest her and see me sitting there."

"Okay," Tony said. "I appreciate your cooperation."

The door to the interview room opened, and McGee and Ziva came in. Tony stood up, and Werner looked between them all.

"What's going to happen now?"

"These agents will take you to be formally charged," Tony said. "And then I suggest you get a lawyer."

As McGee and Ziva stood Werner up, cuffed him and read him his Miranda Rights, Tony left the room and joined Gibbs and Agent Gale in the viewing room.

"Good job, Tony," Gibbs said, throwing him the hint of a smile.

Tony nodded his acknowledgement, and leant against the mirror. "Don't know why he held out so long."

"Guess he just really didn't want to go to jail," Gale said with a sardonic smile.

Tony breathed out a laugh. "Imagine that."

"He was really trying to protect her reputation?"

Tony glanced between Gale and Gibbs. "He thinks he's her white kite."

Gale frowned and the mangled idiom. "White knight, you mean."

Tony shrugged and smiled to himself. "I've heard it both ways."

* * *

While Gale assisted Ziva with Werner's booking, and Gibbs disappeared with his cell phone clamped to his ear, Tony headed down to the NCIS cafeteria to grab a local blend coffee. He was at once exhausted after the interrogation and energized by its outcome, and he knew he had to encourage the energized side to win out. The investigative side of things was over, but now came the dreaded wrap up. He held out vague hope that Gibbs would give them the night off to enjoy the island, but thought it was more likely that tonight would be filled with paperwork. What a waste of a perfectly good island paradise.

He lingered outside in the midday sun for just a little longer than necessary, and then returned to the main building to see where things were up to. He spotted McGee standing by himself, watching Ziva, Gale and Werner through double glass doors, and headed over.

"Do they look like they're close to being finished?" Tony asked.

McGee grunted in a very Gibbs-like manner. "Nice job getting the confession."

Tony nodded in thanks, and narrowed his eyes slightly as Gale bent his 6'4 frame to say something in Ziva's ear. Ziva nodded, but otherwise ignored him. "Yeah, well I just had to work out where he was coming from." He turned and took a seat by the wall in a patch of Hawaiian sunshine.

"Well, you certainly have some unique insight into the psychology behind sleeping around," McGee said tightly.

Tony blinked at his tone, and then sighed. Passive aggressive much? Enough of this. He had to sort this out. "Tim, the thing that happened with Abby," he started, "it was ten years ago. We didn't date, there weren't feelings involved. It was just something that happened."

McGee seemed to roll his eyes. "Yeah, just like all your other dates without feeling, right?" he said contemptuously.

Tony heaved a sigh and swallowed the insult. The guy was upset, so he got some leeway here.

McGee was hoping for a rise, something that could let him get legitimately angry with him. When it didn't come, he turned around and looked Tony in the eye. "Why are you bothering to tell me this?"

The barest of smiles crossed Tony's face, and McGee wasn't sure whether he should feel grateful for Tony's even temper, or pissed off with it. "Because you've been shooting daggers at me ever since you found out."

"Why would I care?" he asked, as though he wasn't aware how transparent he really was.

Tony looked down briefly as he carefully worded his response. "Because you have some pretty strong feeling for her, and—"

"Don't," McGee cut in sharply, and pointed a finger at his chest. "Don't act like you're some big know-it-all with pieces of wisdom to share. You've been refusing to acknowledge your _pretty strong_ feelings for Ziva for years, so don't act like you've done any better than me."

The genuine hurt and resentment in the otherwise mild-mannered probie's eyes caught Tony by surprise. This was one of those rare occasions where he didn't look like a harmless little baby seal, but could pass for a hard-ass federal agent. And even though his ire was aimed squarely at Tony, the older agent was fairly impressed by the transformation.

He also knew that McGee was right. As far as he knew, Tony was still coping with his feelings for Ziva by doing his ostrich impersonation. He wouldn't want to take advice from him either. Except that Tony wasn't an ostrich anymore, and he kind of wanted McGee to know it.

He cleared his throat in preparation, and then shot McGee an open, honest smile. "I am completely in love with Ziva," he stated.

McGee's angry frown immediately dropped to an expression of disbelief. He dropped his pointing finger, and the fight went out of his frame. He wasn't thinking about being angry with Tony and Abby now. He was too shocked by the outright admission.

Tony waited until McGee's mind was almost blown before continuing. "And she knows that I do because I told her. More than once."

McGee took a step over to him and then dropped into the chair beside him. "You did?"

Tony smiled. "Yeah.

"Well, what did she say?" McGee asked, right on board the gossip train now.

Tony chuckled and rubbed his chin. "Uh, nothing, really. But it was received favorably, if the marathon sex we had afterwards was anything to go by."

McGee wrinkled his nose. "I don't need to know that part."

Tony didn't take offence. "We're trying."

McGee nodded, and then shook his head. Abby had been right. _He'd_ been right. After that kiss the other night, it really seemed obvious. And if it had been obvious to him, it had to have rung alarm bells for the bossman. "How are you going to handle Gibbs?"

Tony broke into a full smile as he recalled Gibbs' comment from the previous morning. Ziva had gone in to bat for him. She might not have said the scary words to him yet, but her actions had already said it all. "That's already taken care of."

McGee misunderstood. "You're switching teams?"

"No," Tony said with a shake of his head, but then revised. "Well, maybe. But it was taken care of when Ziva decided to sit down with Gibbs and tell him how things were going to be."

McGee looked dubious. "She just…told him."

"Apparently she used a certain _tone_ that put the fear of God into him, and he didn't dare argue."

McGee didn't buy it. "That's what Ziva said. The reality might've been—"

"No, that's what Gibbs said," Tony spelled out. "Ziva just told me that they'd spoken, and it was okay. _Gibbs_ told me what really happened."

McGee stared at him for a moment, trying to process exactly what that meant. Gibbs had been informed, and as far as McGee could tell, neither Tony nor Ziva was walking with a limp. He supposed that meant this was really happening. Finally.

"Wow. So I guess congratulations are in order."

Tony would have pointed out that congratulations should only follow announcements of engagements and babies, and _those_ were far, far, _far_ away (if they were to occur at all). But he found himself suddenly stuck on the idea of how McGee viewed this development.

"Well, only if you mean them."

McGee's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't I mean them?"

Tony blew out a breath. He knew he was about to leave himself vulnerable to attack, if McGee decided he wanted a bit of payback for the Abby thing. But his need for reassurance outweighed the possible backlash.

"You spend more time around us than anyone else," Tony pointed out quietly. "If anyone would know if this is a bad idea, it would be you."

For a moment, McGee thought that Tony was just being flippant. But one look at the nervous set of Tony's mouth and the appeal in his eyes told him that he was really, truly serious. He honestly wanted McGee's opinion, and his assurance that he and Ziva weren't rushing headlong into a monumental disaster from which they wouldn't recover. This wasn't DiNozzo asking a fellow team member for advice. This was Tony asking his friend for a trusted opinion.

So instead of giving him crap about it and amusing himself by filling Tony's head with doubt, McGee gave him the honest answer. "I don't think it's a bad idea. I think you guys fit. You're…" he trailed off and tried to think of a less negative descriptor than 'co-dependant'. "You make each other better."

McGee was expecting a typical DiNozzo retort that would illustrate his thanks while keeping the bulk of his thoughts hidden. What he got was an almost shy smile that shocked McGee almost as much as Tony's earlier admission had. Honestly, McGee had never considered that Anthony DiNozzo knew what shy was.

"Thanks, Tim," Tony said softly.

And then, something even _more_ unexpected happened. Before Tony could turn his head, McGee caught a suspicious glint in his friend's eye. The words came barreling out of his mouth before he had a chance to censor them. "Are you _crying_?"

"No!"

Okay, there may not have been tears falling, but his eyes were definitely wetter than normal. McGee opened his mouth to argue, but Tony pointed at him warningly.

"Don't do it, McGee. Ziva will beat you up."

For a moment, McGee was on the verge of laughing. He couldn't help but think that he should have been feeling superior right now while serial dater DiNozzo got all mushy over a Mossad-trained assassin. But the truth was, he actually felt really happy for the guy. He didn't know what the catalyst was for Tony finally sitting Ziva down and giving voice to his feelings, but McGee was relieved that it hadn't blown up in his face. Maybe one day, he'd have the same luck himself.

The fleeting thought of Abby reminded McGee why they'd started talking in the first place, and his happiness for his friends was nudged aside by a pang in his chest. He shot Tony a slight glare.

"I'm still annoyed that you slept with Abby."

Tony shifted in his seat to look at McGee as the conversation found its way back to the start. "Okay, I get that. But it was before either of us knew you."

McGee stood and started pacing again. "You've always got to get there first, don't you?"

"How was I supposed to know?" Tony argued, spreading his hands like he wasn't going to accept responsibility. "If I could undo it and let you have her to yourself, I would. But I can't. I can only say that now, and for a really long time, she's only been like a sister to me. I don't think of her the way you do. I'm never going to go back there. And the chances of me sleeping with any of your future girlfriends is also zero." He paused, then added, "Unless I already did. In which case, let me say now that _I didn't know_."

McGee knew he was being irrational. He knew it was beyond stupid to hold a grudge over this, and that he was only being jealous over something he had no control over. If Ziva found it funny, and she was the one who was actually in a relationship with one of the people involved, it seemed ridiculous that McGee would keep punishing them for it. He knew he was just taking his frustration over his inability to move forward, one way or another, with Abby out on Tony because he was an easy target. And because Tony would let him get away with it.

"Sorry," he finally said, dejectedly. "I just…"

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Tim."

McGee knew that was the truth. Tony understood it, and McGee nodded at him in thanks. He wasn't sure he'd be able to explain it aloud, anyway.

"Does Abby know?" he asked, now keen to change the subject.

Tony gave him a disturbed look. "What?"

McGee shook his head as Tony got the wrong idea. "I mean about you and Ziva," he clarified. "I assume she knows about you and her."

Tony's frown disappeared. "Oh. I'm not sure. Ziva said something last night about dogs being let out of bags when they spoke. So either she was just speaking Ziv-lish again and Abby does know, or the two of them are running an underground dog fighting ring."

McGee nodded, and Tony watched his face carefully. He braced for what he knew was coming.

"How long?" McGee asked.

"Um, that's not exactly clear." McGee gave him a look, like he couldn't believe that Tony had already forgotten when they got together, but Tony held up a placating hand. "It wasn't exactly defined," he explained. "And it's still sort of unclear. But I guess...January? But also sort of before that."

McGee blinked at him in surprise. "January? That was seven months ago!" There was a sliver of hurt in his eyes, and Tony felt the need to explain.

"Look, we're just trying to be low-key," he said. "We didn't keep it from you because we don't want you to know. It's got _nothing_ to do with you, McGee. Nothing to do with Abby, nothing to do with Gibbs. It's about Ziva and me, and us trying to work out how we're going to do this without freaking out. We just don't want to make a big deal out of it."

McGee kind of understood that. He could see the two of them freaking out pretty easily over pretty much anything. And as much as Tony used to enjoy sharing the details of his sex life, McGee thought it was likely that when he had something he really respected and was serious about, Tony would keep it to himself. That was the DiNozzo way. He distracted you with the shallow so that he could slip the substance past you without detection.

But McGee had detected it a long time ago. "It is a big deal," he pointed out.

Tony twisted his lips, and looked vaguely panicked. "Yeah, but we're pretending it's not, because it's easier that way."

McGee caught his eye roll. He supposed there was no way that these two would go about things in a conventional way. It just wasn't their style. "So, you're doing this the Tony and Ziva way."

Tony nodded, grabbing on to the descriptor. "Yep."

"Well, I guess you're the experts," McGee offered.

Tony shot him a grateful smile for not pointing out the obvious—that Tony and Ziva were often _terrible_ at doing things the Tony and Ziva way. "We've been in training for years, McGee."

**

* * *

Almost there, peeps. Just two chapters to go.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I honestly thought I'd already posted this chapter. My memory is completely shot.**

**We're almost there. Stay on target. One more to go.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

Although he'd told his agents that he expected them to begin their paperwork that afternoon, Gibbs himself had taken the afternoon off to meet up with an ex-marine buddy over the other side of the island. McGee had met the news with the indignant placement of hands on hips and eyes that screamed "no fair!" but Ziva wasn't bothered. With Gibbs gone, they were left to DiNozzo Rule. That meant that reports could be typed up on laptops while sitting in the sunshine on the back deck, and it was okay to have a beer while you did it. As far as Ziva was concerned, that beat having to go into the office in Washington tomorrow afternoon and sit at her desk to do it.

Ziva had volunteered to play beer wench while the others set up outside, but she'd gotten sidetracked after pulling out the long necks and was now ferreting out leftovers they could snack on and get rid of before they left in the morning. She'd just liberated a plastic container of yesterday's fruit salad when her cell rang, and she kicked the fridge door shut as she pulled the phone out of her pocket. Abby's name came up on caller ID, and Ziva cursed aloud. Any distant (delusional) hope she had of Abby just forgetting about the crazy hot sex comment, or simply deciding to let her and Tony have their privacy, was dashed. She really should have known better.

She sighed before flipping the phone open. "Abby," she said.

"The bad guy's behind bars," Abby said, dispensing with the beginning of the conversation and starting where she wanted. "And you guys are still getting your Blue Hawaii on, so I can't come around to your place and bang on the door until you let me in and _talk to me_."

Ziva dropped her head back and gave up. Sort of. "Okay. Wait one moment."

She picked up two of the beers, and then dragged her feet towards the back yard to where Tony and McGee were sitting on the deck. She plonked a bottle down in front of McGee, and when Tony looked up, she handed over both the phone and his beer. "Abby wants to talk to you."

Tony gave her a vaguely suspicious look, but took both without question or comment. Even if he'd made one, Ziva wouldn't have heard it. She had disappeared back inside the house before the phone had even made it to his ear.

"Hey, Abs," he said, and shot an uncomfortable look in McGee's general direction.

"Oh. Hey, Tony," Abby replied carefully.

Silence. Insects could literally be heard chirping in the background. Tony shot a tight smile at McGee, and then stood up to wander further into the garden, out of earshot.

"How's DC?"

"Good," Abby said. "It's been raining a lot."

"Oh, that's a shame," he offered, and winced at the forced conversation. He couldn't let it drag on. "So, uh, Ziva told you about that...thing that happened with Big Mouth Gale?"

"Yeah," Abby said at length. "That thing. Which happened. That referred to the other thing from a gajillion years ago."

"Yeah." Another pause. "Okay, so it's out there. Ziva and McGee know. Ziva thinks it's hilarious. McGee's...getting over it."

"Have you talked to him?" Abby asked, less stilted now.

"Yeah." He glanced over his shoulder where McGee was sitting with the returned Ziva, picking through some fruit salad. He dropped his voice. "He gets that it's irrational to be mad, and he's calming down, but he's gonna sting for a bit."

"Stupid Gale!" Abby hissed. "I can't believe Stan's friends with him."

Tony shot a traitorous look at the palm tree in front of him over Abby's Team Burley cheer, but aimed his punishment at Gale. "I'm gonna punch him in the face the next time I see him."

Abby took a breath, and then went to her Zen place. "It's okay. It happened, it's never going to happen again. We can deal with this."

"Sure," Tony shrugged. "We're friends, right? What else are we going to do?"

The silent agreement was made to move on and never speak of it again, although they both knew that there was a high probability of Ziva, at least, making fun of them again in the future. But they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Abby moved the conversation along, and her voice went to her extra-happy place. "So, you and Ziva are finally doin' it, huh?"

Tony blinked in surprise, and in the next moment, he worked out why Ziva had given him the phone. It wasn't so that he and Abby could talk over the past. It was so he'd have to field Abby's questions about them. Ziva didn't do girl talk, unless she was trying to catch a killer. Not even with Abby.

"Oh, I'm gonna kill her," he muttered, and caught her eye to shoot her a dirty look. Ziva gave him an innocent smile in return, and quickly turned her attention back to McGee.

"Huh?" Abby asked.

Tony took a breath and prepared himself. "Okay. I'll tell you what I just got done telling McGee. We're trying things out in a low-key, no pressure kind of way. We don't want to make a big deal out of it. It's just...It is what it is. And time will tell whether it's a good idea."

"Wow," Abby said flatly. "That's really romantic, Tony."

"I'm picking up your sarcasm."

"Well, gee, I wonder why."

"You want to hear the romantic?" he challenged.

"Yes."

"Too bad," he shot back with a smirk. "That's none of your business."

Abby let out a long sigh. "Okay. Well, I want you to know that I am refraining from jumping around and screaming right now only because of your expressed wish for low-key. But I'm doing it on the inside."

Tony couldn't help the smile. McGee may have the better insight into whether this was a good idea, but Abby's opinion wasn't exactly chopped liver. "Thanks, Abs."

"And I also want you to know that I knew it."

"Because Ziva told you," Tony guessed.

"No, I mean ages ago," Abby said. "I picked this about three weeks after Ziva started. I mean, I still didn't like her then, not even a little bit, so I kind've hoped I was wrong, but I knew I was right."

"Well, I'll take the fact that you didn't do anything to stop it as a sign that you don't think we're crazy."

"You're not crazy!" Abby cried, sounding offended on his behalf. "I mean, you are. Well, mostly Ziva. But not about this."

Tony didn't quite know what to do with that. "Thanks?"

It seemed to be the response she was looking for. "Did you tell Gibbs?"

"Taken care of," Tony assured her. "No problem."

"I knew that'd happen too," Abby said smugly. "He's been preparing for it almost as long as I have. As soon as he worked out it wasn't just a sex thing."

Tony made a face, but he had a feeling she was right. "Okay, so tell me, Psychic Abby, what else do you _know_ will happen?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Only a little. And I'm doing it with love"

"Aw, I love you, too," Abby said, and Tony could hear her smile through the phone. "But that's all I know. Oh! Except that I saw Jimmy last night, and I think he's going to propose to Breena."

Tony frowned. "Who's Breena?"

Abby sounded appalled. "What? His _girlfriend_, Tony. You know, the cute little blonde who you probably would have hit on two years ago?"

"Isn't her name Anna?"

"It's _Breena_," Abby said firmly. "And you're missing the point."

"He's marrying her?" Tony asked with disbelief. "Is she pregnant?"

"Tony!" Abby scolded.

Tony waited it out. He thought it was a legitimate question. Eventually, so did Abby.

"No, I don't think so," she replied. "I don't think he would have been able to keep that a secret."

Tony nodded at the ground. "I definitely would have gotten a text about that."

Across the yard on the deck, McGee looked over his shoulder to check that Tony was still deep in conversation, before clearing his throat and checking the table was clear of anything Ziva could stab him with.

"Um, Tony told me."

Ziva turned her face into the sun to look at him, and gave him her familiar _does not compute_ expression. "What?"

"About you two," McGee said carefully. "I just thought you should know that I know."

Ziva gazed back at him, and then cut a look towards Tony. McGee waited for threatening words about people not keeping secrets, but in the end, she shrugged and shot McGee a smile.

"I suppose it was inevitable."

McGee let himself relax a little when it appeared this would not be one of the things that pressed her Launch Assassin button. "I'm pleased for you," he told her.

Ziva chuckled. "Thank you, McGee, for the glowing endorsement."

McGee sighed and leaned closer. "No, I'm really happy," he insisted. "But Tony said you were keen to keep things low-key, so…I'm trying to be low-key."

She gave him an affectionate smile. "Thank you."

"It's kind of funny," he said, warming to the topic. When Ziva's smile slid away and her eyebrow slowly rose, he explained, "I just mean because…you know. With the way you both are."

The eyebrow didn't move. "How are we both?"

McGee hesitated. She had to know, right? "Well, neither of you are very…coupley. You're kind've independent and…" He trailed off when he literally couldn't think of a way to say it without being offensive.

"I am emotionally distant and he has never committed to a woman?" Ziva asked bluntly.

McGee twisted his lips, and then winced. "You know I love you both like family, right?" he checked in place of his confirmation.

Ziva broke into a self-aware smirk, and then leaned towards him as if to share a secret. "The truth is, I've been more open with him than I have with anyone since my sister. And I believe he's been committed to me for a while now. I certainly have been to him."

It was unlike Ziva to divulge such personal information, and McGee didn't doubt it was a show of her trust. He gave her a small smile of assurance. "Yeah, I think he has been too."

She briefly touched his arm in thanks, and then removed her hand and went back to her report. McGee took the gesture as the end of discussion it was. He rested his hands on his keyboard, but looked back at her out of the corner of his eye. Her expression was more relaxed than McGee thought he had ever seen it, and the little smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth hinted that the tough girl was thinking decidedly affectionate thoughts about her partner. For a fraction of a moment, she looked like a complete stranger to him, but then her laptop beeped, and her familiar glare was back.

"Mother…" she started through clenched teeth, and raised her hand as if to smack the machine.

McGee caught her wrist before she could bring it down, and turned the computer in his direction. "Don't. Let me fix it."

Tony looked over at the sounds of impending human-on-machine violence, and wrapped up with Abby. "I've gotta go. I think Ziva's about to throw her laptop in the Pacific."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Tony shook his head. His plans for tomorrow were set in stone, and nothing short of an act of war would get him out of bed. "No, but definitely the day after."

He hung up, and crossed the lawn back to the deck where McGee seemed to have fixed whatever problem Ziva's laptop had with a few keystrokes. Tony fully intended to give Ziva crap about making him handle Abby, but then she looked up and mouthed a sincere 'thank you', and he let it go. The news was probably better coming from him anyway. After all, he'd get custody of Abby if they broke up.

He gave her a reassuring wink as he handed the phone back to her. "Abby says hi."

She smiled gratefully. "I was just thinking about dinner."

Tony pulled his laptop closer and brought up his report. "Yeah? What were you thinking about it?"

"Juliet told me about a restaurant downtown where all the waitresses are dressed as hula girls. We should all go, yes?"

Tony smirked at her meaning. He may not get Ziva in a coconut shell bra and a grass skirt, but she'd take him someplace where he could fantasize. "What do you say, McGee?"

"I don't think Gibbs will go for it."

"I meant the three of us," Ziva said, just as Tony replied, "She meant the three of us."

"Oh. Sure," he said, and then quickly added, "But you have to promise not to torment me with this." He gestured between them.

Tony smirked at him, but it was Ziva who spoke up. "Trust me, McGee. It is not _you_ who will be tormented." She gave Tony a smile that obviously meant something, and Tony returned one that left no doubt that her comment had been a sex thing.

McGee wrinkled his nose and looked away. "Oh, my God, guys. Gross."

**

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Yeah, I know this was a short one, but the next chapter (more of an epilogue) just doesn't sit properly on the end of this one. See you back here in a few days' time. Promise.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Final chapter! More of an epilogue. It's short, but ****it needs wrapping up. Also: strong warning for blatant mush.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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Since walking through Ziva's front door three hours ago, Tony had been wholly focused on indulging in activities that, while growing in frequency, were still too sporadic to satiate his desires. Their quickie the other night had taken some of the edge off, but being stuck in close quarters with Ziva for a week and not being able to act on most of his impulses had driven him slightly mad. Now, after hours of extremely enthusiastic relations, Tony felt he had regained some semblance of sanity. He figured that would last at least until the morning.

While he'd been otherwise occupied, Tony hadn't noticed the late afternoon sunshine slowly fading into dusk. Ziva's apartment was now quiet and dark, a virtual cocoon against the outside world that Tony wholeheartedly approved of. Life continued as usual on the other side of the apartment's walls—cars passing slowly on the street below, people laughing in an apartment somewhere above—but the cocoon was where Tony was happy to stay. Lying in Ziva's bed, his head on her breast and his hand making slow circles on her belly, smelling her and soaking up her warmth. This was as close to perfect as it got.

They'd been enjoying shared silence for a while now, happy to just be in each other's company. It was a stark contrast to the cacophony of screams and moans and cries and _thump, thump, thump_ that preceded it. Their bodies were expended and pleasantly sore, knotted as they fell after the last scream sounded. He thought he'd fallen asleep ("Passed out, Tony") at one point, but he couldn't be sure, and it didn't matter anyway. Even sleeping with her—in the literal sense of the word—filled him with contentment.

For all the romantic thoughts, Tony was also a realist. He knew that they were likely to screw this up—several times—before they got the hang of it. But visionary or fool, he was sure that they'd get it right in the end. He would chase this feeling of contentedness and love and _home_ every day for the rest of his life. He'd do whatever it took to make it work out, and he knew the next step was sorting out their working arrangements. She probably knew what he'd decided about that, but he wanted to make it clear.

Breaking the silence seemed almost offensive, so he kept his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to talk to Vance tomorrow."

At first, she didn't react. Her body did not tense, and she did not sigh or grumble. He would have thought she was asleep if he didn't feel her consciousness so keenly. He tilted his head back to look up at her, and caught a wide smile he didn't think he'd ever seen before slide across her face. He felt an answering pang in his chest that was starting to become familiar to him. It was the feeling he got when he knew he'd made her happy.

Despite her clear happiness she managed to keep her voice mostly measured and rational. "Are you sure?"

She wasn't talking about the job. The way her voice barely broke on the last word gave her heart away. She was giving him an out. _Turn back now if you're not sure about this, or forever hold your peace._

Tony had never been very good at holding his peace. "About you?" he asked softly, letting her know that her poker face wasn't as good as she thought anymore. "I thought I was pretty clear about that."

She opened her eyes and gave him that melty expression of hers that always made _him_ melty in return. She cupped his cheek. "Yes."

He nodded, and kissed her palm. "Then, yes."

Ziva turned on her side to face him, and he rearranged himself so that his head was on the pillow beside hers. He slipped his arm around her, and his hand tangled in the curls against her back.

"I think it will be good for you," she said softly. "Stretch your legs, yes?" She knew it would be good for them, too. But she wanted to support _him_ before making it about them. Be his partner. Have his back. Whatever she could do to help him be happy and content.

He drew a deep breath and brushed a kiss against her lips. "Yeah. I think it will be too."

"We're all behind you," she assured him.

He knew it, but he appreciated the support. "Yeah."

Ziva let her thumb brush across his lips as she watched his face, his warm eyes, the lines and scars she could trace with her eyes closed. Something clicked within her, and all of a sudden she felt centered and calm. She realized that her real life, her grown up life, her family life, truly started now, and she gave him the most honest smile of her life.

"I really am in love with you, you know."

Tony's reaction to her words was slight. Just the barest of smiles curled his lips, but she saw the change in his eyes. The lightness and joy and love he sent back to her made her shiver, and although _he'd_ warned of manly tears, Ziva found herself welling up at the admission. All her life, she'd thought of those words as being something unattainable, as something she would likely never hear or feel the need to say. But now they were real and existed in her life, she felt…liberated.

Tony watched her as she gazed back at him, and he didn't think he'd ever seen her face so open. He drew a deep breath, as if he could draw her words into his body like a drug, and he felt the high of it spread through every vein and nerve ending. In the next moment, he was hit with an epiphany: _This is what life is about. This feeling, right now. This is what my life is supposed to be._

"Yeah," he said softly, as his joyful smile finally broke over his face. "I know, Ziva."

* * *

The next morning, Tony stood before the roll of honor that hung outside Director Vance's office. It was a tribute to agents that had given their lives in the line of duty, a long list that both depressed and inspired. Tony had paid tribute to it many times in the past, silently thanking them for the part they'd played, and the sacrifices they'd made to serve their country. Today, Tony's eyes paused over one name: Caitlin Todd, May 24, 2005.

The back of his eyes stung for a moment as he remembered his fallen partner, but then he blinked and his lip curled in a nostalgic smile. He wondered what she'd think of him now, committing to a woman who had intimidated the hell out of him when they'd first met and was nothing like the bimbos Kate had teased him mercilessly about. What would she think about him finally taking the step out of Gibbs' shadow and demanding to be given respect and responsibility?

If he had to guess, Tony would say that she'd probably laugh her ass off…before telling him she always knew he had it in him, despite his protests to the contrary. He thought she would be proud of him (after arguing him into agreeing that she probably would have deserved it first), and then encourage him to take it all on and kick ass. No, _butt_. Kate would never say 'ass'.

He cracked a bigger smile as the door to Vance's office swung open. Tony looked over to see the director standing in the doorway.

"Agent DiNozzo," he said, his tone both greeting and summoning.

"Sir." Tony followed him back into the office, and swung the door closed behind him.

Vance glanced over his shoulder before he leaned over his desk and hit the _do not disturb_ button on his phone. "Nice job with the Werner interview," he threw at him.

Tony nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Vance gestured at the conference table, and they sat adjacent to each other with Vance at the head of the table.

"What's going on today that has you in my office?"

A part of Tony thought he should have been nervous here, but instead he felt completely calm and in control. Maybe he was setting himself up for failure—Vance had never been his biggest fan, after all. But honestly, he thought he had a pretty good shot of getting his way. "I wanted to talk to you about the team leader position that will be available with Agent Michaels' retirement."

Vance wore total poker face, and Tony took that to mean that he'd managed to blindside the director. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing until Vance tilted his head just a little to the side, and Tony knew he was open to hearing more.

"I don't know if you've started thinking about replacements yet, but I wanted to let you know that I want to take it on."

"You do," Vance stated.

Tony nodded, full of confidence. "I'd be damn good at it, too."

For a few long seconds, Vance continued to stare at him. Then, the poker face gave way to the barest of smiles, and Tony knew he was in.

Vance sat back in his seat, and spread his hands. "All right, Agent DiNozzo. Sell it to me. I'm all ears."

**

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**DONE!**

**What, you don't want to sit in on the negotiations, do you? Bor-ing.**

**Thanks to all who have followed this, bigger thanks to those who have reviewed and encouraged**** and said ridiculously kind things to me. I really hope you enjoyed it, and that you'll give whatever I pump out in the future a read as well. Hint: it's likely to be more TIVA-ness with lots of dialogue and some sex. Yeah, I play to my strengths.**


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